Trails of Unease
by Stephanie18
Summary: There was no medical emergency and Max left for Canada with Zack in BBWW. After two months in snowy Canada, Zack says it's time to move on. Will Max go with him or will her heart lead her somewhere else? ML.
1. The Talented Ms Guevara

**Trails of Unease**

**Summary:** There was no medical emergency and Max left for Canada with Zack in BBWW. After two months in the snowy Canada, Zack says it's time for a change. Like France. While Zack finalizes the travel schedule, Max decides to finish writing the "Seattle" chapter in her life story - trouble is, she's got writer's block and a heavy heart. Eventual ML.  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dark Angel. That would be Mr. Help the Boat Is Sinking and Friends.  
**Rating:** T, I believe. I don't really understand these newfangled ratings. I've been gone too long!  
**READ ME:** Will be eventual ML, so you are warned (or overjoyed?) 

**A/N:** It all started with the first line. The title came from a quote by Stephen Brook. I wanted to wait until I got back from my trip to the UK to post this, but it feels like I've got a Max-shaped monkey on my back with a knife to my throat, demanding I post the story. I know all about creative imagery, eh? Oh, and just so everyone's aware, the following chapters will be longer. This is just a bit of a taste. 

_On through the woods and you go through the snow  
Walk to the tree and you breathe on the limb  
When the night comes and you find that you're bound  
Tied to the tree and the straps at your knees  
Hide in the willow and wait for the dawn  
Carve another dream in the limb that you're on  
How many times have you seen me around  
When the sun comes and you find that you're free  
Walk to the water and bleed in the stream  
And think of the lover that once you were wrapped around  
Breathe in the water, breathe it in deep  
Just like the winter, fall into sleep  
Don't ever wander, don't ever move again_  
-- Marcy Playground 

**Chapter One** - _The Talented Ms. Guevara_

Leaving is a talent. 

It takes a special person to really leave. It isn't like leaving to go to the store to pick up a jug of milk and a pack of smokes - that isn't leaving. That's departing from one destination with the full intent of returning. When one leaves, truly leaves, they run as fast as they can away from everything that they know - everything they _love_ - and they never look back. Looking back is not conducive to true leaving. Looking back lends one the opportunity to go back and analyze everything that would be best forgotten. Analyzing would certainly lead to "checking up," and once one has "checked up," there is no going back to the leaving state of mind. 

Max had not "checked up" in over two months. 

Her mind was stuck in one gear, the only gear she would allow herself - leaving. She knew the dangers of looking back, of "checking up" and she wasn't ready to put everyone - including herself - at risk just because she hadn't heard his voice, seen his face, or eaten one of his meals. His safety was more important than her fits of selfishness. She fought a long war within herself to keep everything under control. The only person she would ever "check on" again was herself. 

It had been lonely at first. It had been more than lonely, but she would only ever admit 'lonely' to Zack. She could never explain what it really felt like to him. She could never admit that it felt like someone had ripped her heart from her chest and held it before her, so that she could only see it but never again feel its steady and comforting rhythm beneath her skin. Instead, her eyes glazed and she admitted to a certain level of loneliness that Zack could understand. Loneliness was safe and acceptable, whereas feeling without a heart was dangerous and intolerable. 

She had accepted the dull chest pain as a part of her daily life. It was the pang that went with true leaving and she would shoulder the burden quietly, secretly, away from Zack. Every time she wandered the house or even the surrounding land, it was there. The dull pain became sharp when she was reminded that she was never home. 

She was never home. She shared a one-story house with her brother who loved her in a way that made her brow furrow. Her home was miles away with the heart she could look at but not touch. Home seemed to no longer be an option. She was forever doomed to be in a perpetual state of 'house.' 

She didn't allow herself to miss anything. She never missed the rain because it made her think of cozy nights in apartments near her heart. She accepted the cold Canadian snow as due punishment for how she had been born and raised. 

She had been perfecting the craft of true leaving since she was nine years old. The time between then and now had just been practice. It had been practice for running, for leaving again. She had steeled herself against the world with friends and then steeled herself against memories of those same people because memories did not lend themselves well to the process of leaving. She was without meaningful memory. She remembered the night before, perhaps the day, but tried to remember no further. To remember further is to begin looking back. 

And Max no longer looked back. 

She knew the cost of looking back. She was well aware of the gun powder path the flame would follow once she lit the match of memory. The eventual explosion - destruction - of everything that was worth not remembering was enough to keep her straight faced and up at night. 


	2. These Boots Were Made For Kicking Ass

**A/N:** Just setting up Max's new (hell) environment here. 

**Chapter Two** - _These Boots Were Made For Kicking Ass_

Max pulled the covers around herself tightly, hoping to fight off the chill that swept through the house. The news had promised things to be warming up, but it seemed as if the weatherman was wrong again. She looked to the small window in the room and was glad that she couldn't make out any snow falling. The last thing she needed was more snow. She hated the sound it made as she crunched through it everyday and she hated the perpetual sogginess it brought. It never ceased to amaze her how quickly the bottoms of her pants became soaked and uncomfortable. She hated the snow. She also hated the cold, but the cold was easier to deal with and was far less uncomfortable.

The cold and snow had been welcome companions once and only once: when she went into heat.

They had settled into the house and endured one of the worst snowstorms she had ever seen just when it hit. As the last flakes fell, her hormones kicked into overdrive and she suddenly found herself pacing the perimeter and climbing the walls. She noted the way Zack looked at her during those few days. When she would enter the room and offer him _that smile_, his jaw would clench and his eyes would fill with clouds. While Max held a strict 'no memories' policy, there was one she couldn't manage to shake.

It had been in her last day of heat. She was in between herself and the animal within when she met Zack in the hallway. She had stepped in his path and offered him _that smile_ - that _invitation_. Instead of clenching his jaw, he reached out and grabbed her by the arms. He slammed her against the wall roughly and looked her up and down, his mouth hanging open and something primal in his eyes. The moment passed rather quickly. He pushed away from her and stormed off into his room. She swallowed the rejection with relief and walked numbly to the back porch. She briefly considered crying, but banished the thought. Instead, she stood on the railing and stretched out her arms, then leaned forward. She fell off the railing gracefully and landed in the snow with a comforting _whump_.

Max pushed the memory from her mind and rolled over onto her side. She stared at the alarm clock and watched the minutes tick painfully by. Something deep within her longed to analyze that moment with Zack, but something near the surface shoved the thought away. Analyzing would lead to "checking up" and the last thing she wanted to do was "check up" on Zack's actions. Everything was better left buried.

When she saw the first rays of daylight filtering through the frosted window glass, she threw the covers off herself and accepted the morning chill with a grimace. She changed quickly into a pair of jeans and heavy sweater, then slipped on the only shoes she found practical - combat boots. She owned only one other pair of shoes. It was the pair of sneakers she had been wearing the day she left Seattle. They were shoved, along with the clothes she had been wearing that day, into an unmarked cardboard box that she kept on the top shelf in her closet. She never opened the box and tried to never think of it. The sneakers were impractical anyway - the combat boots were perfect for trekking in the snow and were useful when it came to landing a kick on Zack's chest when he pissed her off.

She ran her hands up and down her arms, still hoping to fight off the chill. She sighed and walked to the kitchen, where she prepared herself a sorry breakfast of cereal and a glass of milk. She settled herself at the wobbly table and ate her meal, pretending that it was a culinary miracle instead of cold cereal. It worked until she took the first bite. She finished the cereal quickly and drank the milk from the bottom of the bowl, then proceeded to drain her glass of milk.

The sun was barely rising when she got up and put the dishes in the sink. She stood and stared out the window over the sink. The sun was struggling for exposure against a cloudy gray sky. It managed to find pockets in the cold and grim sky to shine through, but she doubted it would make much more progress during the course of the day. The sun never stood much chance in that part of the world.

The sound of heavy boots on fragile floorboards announced Zack's arrival. He grunted a greeting and switched the coffeemaker on. He yawned loudly then crossed his arms and leaned against the counter.

"You busy today?" he asked.

"My calendar has a few spots open," she replied with a shrug. She gave up on the sun and turned to her brother. "Why?"

"I need you to grab some stuff from the store for me."

"Why can't you do it?" she asked then smirked. "Meeting your boyfriend for lunch?"

He sighed and shook his head. "If we're going to make this whole situation work, you have to stop fighting me, Maxie. Are you going to pick up what I need or what?"

"Yeah, fine," she said and resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

Zack had been on her ass about "fighting him" since they first arrived in Canada. Even in situations when she wasn't fighting him on an issue, he insisted she was and went into a whole speech about staying alive and making it work. Something within her told her that sometimes Zack didn't mean making their time in Canada work. Sometimes she thought he meant… something else, but she always pushed those thoughts from her mind. She just choose to nod, roll her eyes, and let him know she was all in… even if she wasn't.

"Good," he said with a nod. "I already made out the list."

He handed her a small slip of paper and some money and she pocketed it.

"So, why can't you get the stuff? Busy today?" she asked. She wasn't hoping for a fight.

"I'm meeting someone," he told her. It seemed Zack's main job was to be vague.

She nodded and looked out the window again. "All right, well, I'm gonna bounce."

"Don't forget to buy that stuff," he warned.

"I won't," she replied, her mind everywhere but the conversation.

She left the house without another word. She took the long path that led from the house to the main road with ease. The only thing that bothered her was the constant _crunch_ her boots made as she walked over the delicate snow. She was thankful when she reached the plowed road and could walk on the silent pavement.

To describe the nearest town as "nothing special" would have been giving it too much credit. The "town" was about a block long and consisted of the following: a City Hall that housed not only the local government but the police station, post office and church, one diner that comfortably seated ten people, a one story school that housed grades K - 12 comfortably, a general store, and oddly enough, a Laundromat. There was also a phone booth in front of City Hall, but it hadn't been operational since the Clinton administration. All of the houses were located in the surrounding wilderness - in some cases, so far away that going into town was cause for their Sunday's best.

Max entered the general store and was immediately greeted with the unpleasant scent of burnt coffee. She looked to the register and found Buck Harvey, the store's owner, sitting behind the counter. Three other men were gathered around the counter and Buck read them highlights from The Daily, the only newspaper that ever reached the town. They looked up when they heard the bell above the door jingle and smiled at her, then went back to the paper.

She pulled Zack's list from her pocket and examined it. It called for rope, a canteen, a box of hair dye, and a Swiss army knife. She rolled her eyes but began searching for the items all the same. It took her over fifteen minutes to find a box of hair dye and another fifteen to locate the other items. She walked to the front of the store and placed everything on the counter.

"Higby is getting another police car," Buck said to the small crowd.

"Where'd they get the money for that?" one of the men grunted.

"Doesn't say," Buck told him as he scanned the article.

"Probably the taxpayers," another man grunted.

Max smirked. She doubted there were enough taxpayers in the community to purchase a banana, let alone a police car.

Buck began ringing up her purchase and the three men looked at her.

"Camping trip," she explained with a sweet smile.

They nodded and went back to looking at the newspaper.

She paid Buck then grabbed her bag and left the store.


	3. People Like Us

**Chapter Three** - _People Like Us_

Max toyed briefly with the notion of returning to the house straight away, but decided against it. Since she liked to stay as far away from the police and government as possible and she had no clothes to launder, she was left with only one option - the diner. 

The plain brick building was unmarked except for a sign on the door that read "Tom's - Open." The sparse outer decoration really prepared one for the first step through the door. Inside there was no comfortable furniture. There was only a long counter surrounded by fifteen mismatched stools and a small kitchen area behind that. The most interesting thing on the wall was a clock in the shape of Elvis Presley - its hips swung back and forth every hour, on the hour. The only things that sat on the counter were salt and peppershakers and a napkin dispenser. It was the epitome of minimalist business. 

Max smiled at the four other customers - a young couple and two older men - before taking a seat at the far end of the counter. She set her bag down on the floor and checked the time on Elvis's chest. 

The waitress, a woman in her forties who looked like she was stuck in the fifties, approached her with a wide smile. "Mary-gold, how ya doin', d_ah_lin?" 

"Just fine, Trix," Max replied with a smile. 

Diane - or Trix as she was known - was a transplanted Southern belle who never rid herself of her habit of giving people cutesy nicknames. Max's fake name of Mary had been Mary-gold since day one and _everybody_ was a d_ah_lin. 

"What'll it be, hmm?" 

"A good cup of coffee," Max ordered. "And maybe some scrambled eggs, if Stan doesn't mind cooking them." 

Stan was the cook - and Trix's husband. 

"Stan doesn't mind cooking anything that somebody's got to pay for," Trix replied with a smirk. "I'll have him start your eggs and I'll get your coffee." 

After Trix disappeared to the kitchen, Max looked around the room. She knew the older men by sight, not name, but the young couple in the corner she had never seen. By their tired eyes and the map they had spread out between their breakfast plates, she guessed they were out-of-towners who were trying to get as close to "out of town" as possible. She didn't blame them. If it hadn't been for a certain government agency looking to throw her ass in a cage, she would have been having similar thoughts. 

Trix returned with Max's coffee and set it down in front of her. "Here you go, freshly brewed and everything." 

"Thanks," Max replied then wrapped her fingers around the mug. 

"So, your brother Mark up to anything special today?" Trix asked. It was a well-known fact that Trix had a bit of a schoolyard crush on Zack - something Stan didn't care much about but the rest of the "town" found highly scandalous. 

"Oh, I'm sure he's keeping busy," Max said and took a sip of the coffee. It was certainly better than anything Zack ever cooked up was and a zillion times better than the burnt stuff the men at the general store called coffee. "He's probably out chopping trees or something manly like that." 

"I bet he is," Trix said. A dreamy expression came over her face. "I bet he's out in the snow, muscles rippling as he brings the ax down, sweat falling off his… I'll go check on your eggs." 

Max wanted to smirk as Trix walked off, but found the image the older woman had supplied her with too disturbing. 

Trix returned with a plate of scrambled eggs and placed it in front of Max. "There ya go, just as good as ever." 

Max smiled in return and dug into the eggs. They weren't A+ but she would take any eggs she could get. The only reason the place had eggs was because Trix kept a small collection of chickens in the back. Max had seen the coop - and had been tempted to take one. Zack had kept her from the delicious meal she had planned, citing the fact that everyone in town would automatically assume they had done it because they were "the outsiders." She had called him a drama queen but didn't take the chicken all the same. Not because she felt Zack was right but because she didn't want to hear him bitch about it. 

The door opened but Max was too focused on her meal to look up and examine the newest patron. When she heard the sound of heavy boots clomping toward her, she realized who it was. 

"Busy morning?" she asked and gathered more eggs onto her fork. 

"Busy enough," Zack replied so that only she could hear. "I would have been busier if you had returned on time with my supplies." 

Max shrugged. "Girl's gotta eat." 

Zack seemed keen to continue his diatribe but Trix sauntered over to them and he was interrupted. He looked up at the woman but offered her no smile. 

"Mark-y, d_ah_lin," Trix said with a wink. "How've you been? Cut down any trees lately?" 

"No," Zack replied, still stone-faced. 

Trix ignored his reluctance for conversation. "Well, there's always time for that later." 

"I'm not really the nature type," he told her with a shrug. 

"That's too bad," Trix replied. She seemed genuinely disappointed. 

The young couple called for her. She sighed sadly and walked over to them. 

"You want me to give you two some alone time?" Max quipped with a smirk. She wasn't looking at Zack but she could feel his scowl like a slap. 

"What I want," Zack growled, "is for us to go back home." 

Max turned to him at the word "home." She already knew that when he said "home" it wasn't her idea of it. She pushed her plate of scrambled eggs away from her, no longer hungry. 

"I haven't even finished my coffee yet," she told him and picked up the mug. 

"Max," he sighed. He shook his head and looked around the diner. 

She knew what that sigh meant: a speech. 

"Max," he started, "you know coming into town isn't a good idea. Town visits should only be executed under the direst of situations. Recreational visits aren't safe for people like… us." 

"And what exactly is _safe_ for people like _us_?" she bit, careful to keep her voice quiet. 

"The house is safe," he said. "Places far away, they're safe. This isn't safe." 

"Whatever," she breathed and then slapped a few bills on the counter. 

She picked the bag up from the floor and tossed it at Zack. She looked at him and seemed to feel her eyes glow from the anger coursing through her. She thought of saying more to him, but instead just left the diner. 


	4. Gun Powder Trail

**Chapter Four** - _Gun Powder Trail_

Max returned to the house long after the sun set. She jammed her hands in the pockets of her jacket as she walked up the porch steps - hoping that this would prevent her from beating Zack too badly. She knew before she reached the porch and could hear his boots slapping the floor that he would be awake. She had left before he could make an angry point about them being different and she hadn't immediately returned to the safety of the house immediately - both of which were high on Zack's list of things good little soldiers did not do. But as she stood in front of the door, just staring at the handle, she told herself she wasn't a good little soldier. She hadn't been a soldier since she was nine years old. She was a woman, a human. "Soldier" was something deep within her, something she kept hidden out of fear. If she was a soldier, she was doomed. 

She took a deep breath and took hold of the door handle. A million thoughts raced through her head in the millisecond it took her to turn the handle and push the door open. She thought of the last time she and Zack had fought - yesterday. She thought of turning and running into the wilderness. She thought briefly of a man millions of miles away. She thought of everything she had promised herself she would never think of again. 

When she entered the living room, she saw that Zack had settled himself into a chair near the fire. She stood in the doorway, waiting for another speech - another attack on her lack of humanity. It never came. 

"It's dangerous, Max," Zack said. His voice was quiet but filled with an emotion that was uniquely Zack - discomfort, rage, vulnerability, and hatred all rolled into one neat package. Because that was Zack - neat. 

"What is?" she asked even though she already knew. 

"Getting close," he replied and looked into the fire. "It's dangerous business walking out the front door." 

She shrugged, mostly to prove to herself that maybe Zack's words had no truth. Maybe. "I can be just as dangerous to that world as it can be to me." 

"That's the problem," he sighed. "One day you'll do the damage to them and they'll do the damage to you. You'll break a nose but they'll break a neck." 

She wanted to tell him that it didn't matter anymore if they broke her neck because her heart was most important and _that_ was already broken. She gave another noncommittal shrug instead. 

"They'd have to catch me first." 

He shook his head and clasped his hands together. "To believe that you can outrun any situation and control all the cards on the table is the belief of a fool, Max. If you're not more careful, anything could happen. You can prepare for anything but you'll find that the one thing you weren't ready for is happening. You can try your best to make everything go your way, but with the DNA, with the blood coursing through your veins, anything could go wrong. Look at Brin." 

She shoved her hands back in her pockets and looked to the floor. She wanted to look everywhere but at Brin. Her sister had fallen victim to her DNA - something that could happen to any of them, including herself. Brin couldn't have stopped her Progeria. Maybe she couldn't prevent what evil thing was lurking around the corner waiting to claim her - or worse, drag her back to Manticore. 

"I know the risks," she told him. "I don't need another lecture on them." 

"You know the risks _now_," he replied coldly and turned to her, "but in two months, three months, when you're making friends and losing sight, you forget. You forget the risks and you end up…" 

His voice trailed off and he turned back to the fire. 

She felt her face go flush with anger. "End up what? Where do I end up, Zack? Huh? In a cabin in Canada with you to look after me to make sure I'm a good little soldier who doesn't make any more mistakes? Is that where I end up? Is it?" 

"Yes!" he exclaimed and got to his feet. "Yes, that's where you end up! You end up here and I end up here with you!" 

"I never asked for your help!" she exclaimed. "I would've done fine on my own! I had my backup!" 

"A _cripple_?" Zack hissed. "You need _me_." 

"Don't _ever_ talk about him," she growled. She barely recognized her own voice. "Zack, I need a brother, not a keeper!" 

"You have a brother!" he screamed. He was uncapping every bottle of emotion he had been collecting over the past few months and pouring the contents over her. "_I'm_ your brother! I'm here to protect you, Max! I'm doing what a brother should!" 

"No, you're doing what a soldier should," she said, allowing her voice to return to a normal pitch. "You're keeping the unit safe by sedating the threat. I'm the threat, Zack. I know that's what I've always been to you. When did I stop becoming your sister?" 

"Don't make this about that," he seethed, not willing to let go of his anger just yet. "It isn't about that. It isn't about them. It's about you and your carelessness. I'm keeping you safe." 

"Keeping me safe by keeping me in a cage?" Max said and shook her head. "You're turning your life into Manticore, Zack." 

"Shut up," he said, a guttural growl punctuating his sentence. 

"You're just like them now," she said just above a whisper. "You're turning freedom into a burden, into something that should be feared and not worshipped for the gift that it is." 

"Shut up," he said more loudly. He turned his back to her. 

She blinked back the tears that were forming. She wasn't sure if she wanted to cry out of anger or sadness - sadness for Zack, sadness for the turn her life had taken. 

"Tell me something, Zack," she continued on quietly. "Have you ever had a friend? A _true_ friend?" 

When he offered no reply, she nodded and said, "I didn't think so." 

She walked from the room, still blinking back hot tears. She went to her room and slammed the door behind her. She peeled off her jacket and threw it to the floor. She was tempted to lay down and hope for sleep, but she knew it would never happen. She had slept for two hours a few days ago, which meant she was caught up for the week. She paced the length of the room, hoping some divine knowledge would hit her between the eyes like a skilled sniper's bullet. 

No such revelation came. 

**A/N:** There's an altered Underoath song title in there somewhere. Internet cookies to whoever finds it. 


	5. Situation Assessed, Solution: France

**Chapter Five** - _Situation Assessed, Solution: France_

Max lay awake in bed, stretched out and staring at the ceiling. Dawn had broken hours ago but she hadn't found the motivation to get up from bed. It was a lumpy mattress but anything was better than Zack's lumpy attitude. She had heard him get off his creaky mattress shortly after dawn and he had been moving about the house ever since. She didn't know what he was doing, but at the moment she didn't care. She was still reeling over the fight they'd had. She knew she hit the nail on the head as soon as she had brought up him protecting the others. She was a security risk - _the_ security risk, one and only. He had been treating her like a prisoner, not a human being, and certainly not like a sister - and she had called him on it. She had finally called him on it. 

And he was pissed - royally pissed. 

At the moment, she didn't care about Zack's feelings. She allowed herself to be selfish, truly selfish, for the first time in two months. For the first time in a long time the sentence "What would Zack think…" did not follow every one of her private thoughts. She didn't give a damn what Zack thought. 

Her stomach gave a tremendous gurgle and she looked at the alarm clock. She'd been up for hours and still hadn't gotten anything to eat. Deciding not to allow her anger to interfere with her appetite, she got out of bed and ventured out of her room. 

When she got to the kitchen, she found pot of coffee already made. She poured herself a generous cup and got herself her usual breakfast of cereal. She took a seat at the table and listened - just listened. She heard the birds chirping, animals snapping twigs in the forest, and mutters of rage from the living room. She doubted that Zack was still upset about their fight. He usually chalked everything she said up to naivete and went about life as per usual. She listened closely, hoping he would betray some detail in his mutterings, but he didn't. She could hear the scratching of a pencil on paper, but that was it. It appeared that Zack was up for another morning of secrecy. 

She finished her cereal and focused on the coffee. It wasn't anywhere near as good as what she could get at the diner, but it would do for the moment. She was debating visiting the diner again but she wasn't sure if it was for the food or just as a way to piss Zack off further. Either way she would have won. 

She heard heavy boots abusing the floorboards and put the cup of coffee to her lips. She hoped if her mouth were occupied when he entered the room she wouldn't make a remark to further stoke the fire. 

Zack entered the kitchen and gave her a terse but painfully memorable glance before strolling over to the coffeepot and refilling his mug. He took a long drink and stared straight ahead. 

She set her cup down and licked her lips. She needed to say something. She wouldn't apologize, but she would say something. "Zack, I -" 

"Don't," he clipped and took another long drink of his coffee. 

She gritted her teeth. If he wanted to be difficult, she could be difficult too. "I think we need to talk about… things." 

"No, we don't," he answered. He was still staring straight ahead. 

"Yes, we do," she said. She was afraid she was gripping her coffee cup so tightly it might shatter. "We need to talk." 

"We don't," he told her. "We don't because I've taken care of things." 

For a moment she wondered if he had gone to town and killed everyone. If he believed something would keep his family safe, he would do it. She took a breath and asked, "What?" 

"I took care of everything," he said and drained the last of his coffee. He placed the empty mug in the sink. "I've got a new plan." 

"What do you mean?" 

He crossed his arms over his chest. He would still not look at her. He said, "I assessed the situation and I've handled it." 

"Can you stop being so damn vague for once and just tell me what the _hell_ is going on?" she asked with a deep sigh. She watched his jaw clench and unclench several times. 

"I assessed," he told her, "that you will never be able to live in the way that will keep you safest, so I've created an alternate plan. One that will keep everyone safe - including you… little sister." 

She wasn't sure if she wanted to raise her eyebrows or let out a cynical chuckle at his last words. She decided against both and offered no expression. "And what is this plan?" 

Zack reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small book. He tossed it onto the table in front of her. 

She picked up the book and examined the cover closely. Through the creases and other signs of age and mishandling, she could see that it was a French language dictionary. She looked from the book to him, her brow furrowing. 

"What is this?" she questioned. 

He turned to look at her - the first time during the entire exchange. He told her, "Just what it looks like. You'll need to know the language for where we're going." 

"Quebec?" 

"No," he replied and shook his head. 

"Then where the hell are we…" she allowed her voice to trail off as she realized his plan. As a response, she gripped the book tightly. 

"France," she said. 

He nodded slowly. "We'll be safe there. We'll be far enough from Manticore and Lydecker for you to make friends the way you like and have the life you want." 

She had expected just a sliver of dreaminess in his speech but received none. Leave it to Zack to make a fantasy life sound like a live ordinance drill. 

"Did you plan when we'd leave?" she asked. 

"Immediately," he responded. "We've already left too much of ourselves here. I want to get out as soon as possible. I'm making arrangements to have us flown out of the nearest city." 

Max wasn't sure how to feel. Something within her told her to be happy that she would get the life she always wanted away from Manticore, but it was a very small part that was barely a squeak among the louder feelings that were raging within her. She could only nod and grip the spine of the light dictionary so hard that her knuckles began to turn white. 

"Can we leave as soon as possible?" she asked. She was surprised to find her voice childlike. 

"That's what I was hoping you'd say," Zack replied. "I'll go make the arrangements." 

He left the kitchen. 

Max sat at the table gripping the small volume for dear life. She leaned back in her chair and thought everything over. 

Leaving was a talent. 

Leaving sooner than later would leave her no time to think. 

No time to think about her short life in Canada. 

And no time to think of her heart in Seattle. 


	6. Packing Light Can't Be Applied To Hearts

**Chapter Six** - _Packing Light Can't Be Applied To Hearts_

The rest of the day had gone by without incident. Max had taken a long walk to allow Zack plenty of time to plan out their trip - their new life. When she returned, he was drawing circles on maps. Instead of asking what he was really doing - what he was really planning for - she walked by him and into her room. She paced the length of the room, hoping every negative thought would leave her body and settle on the unstable floor, but so far it hadn't been working. Without knowing it, Zack offered a respite from her thoughts when he knocked on the door. 

"Come in," she said distractedly. She sat on the edge of her bed and stared out the dark window. 

Zack entered the room, carrying a rolled up map. "It's all set." 

"For when?" she asked quietly. 

"Dawn," he answered. "If we leave for the airport in a little while we'll get there just in time." 

"I'll pack," she said. She couldn't think of anything else to say. 

"Pack light," he advised. He told her the rest of the details. "The plane will take us into the US. One of the pilots has contacts there that can get us on a commercial airline without any trouble, then before you know it, we'll be in our new home." 

She nodded and felt a sudden strain on the heart she could see but not touch. 

He tapped the rolled up map on the palm of his hand then left the room, closing the door behind him. 

Max got up from the bed and went to the window. Her enhanced vision allowed her to make out the forest and the layers and layers of snow. She frowned and hoped it didn't snow a lot in France. 

She turned away from the window with a sigh and went to the closet. She touched the hinges were doors should have been hanging and wondered how much time she had really spent thinking about whom stole the doors. Anything she could think about that didn't have to do with leaving again she thought about. She pulled a small backpack from the corner of the closet and opened it up. She stuffed her small collection of three outfits into it easily and zippered it. She slung it over her shoulder then reached to the top shelf of the closet and groped around for the flashlight she kept hidden up there. She grabbed hold of it and pulled it down. When she did, she caught a corner of the unmarked cardboard box and it tumbled to the floor, spilling its contents like tragic entrails. 

She gasped. She couldn't ever remember gasping before. She stared down at the clothes that were pooled on the floor and felt blood begin to pound in her ears. 

She crouched down near the box and picked up the tan jacket. She gripped it tightly. She was aware that tears were slowly making their way down her cheeks, but she made no move to wipe them away. Instead, she allowed every memory to cascade through her body, filtering into the spot where her heart should have been and filling it only slightly. 

She held the jacket with one hand and reached down to pick up the black sweater. Without knowing why, she held it close to her nose and took in the scent. She could smell rain, Seattle, _Logan_. The scents were barely there, but the important thing was that they _were_ there. Next she picked up the blue pants and the red sneakers. She sat on the floor, gently cradling her only links to home and allowing the tears and memories to flow. 

She readjusted herself so that her legs were stretched out and the pile of clothing was resting on her lap. She untied her combat boots and tossed them aside, then slipped the sneakers on her feet. She smiled down at them. 

She folded the clothes in her lap carefully then pulled the backpack from her shoulder. She unzipped it and placed the clothes carefully inside. 

There was a knock and Zack's voice came through the door. "Max, we should head out." 

She nodded even though he couldn't see her. She tried to keep the tears from her voice as she replied, "Okay." 

She heard him walk away and wiped her tears away. She zippered the backpack and slung it over her shoulder, then stood. She looked around the room for anything that she would absolutely have to take with her, but found nothing. She took one last look out her window, then joined Zack in the living room. 

He was ready to go. He had on his jacket and a plain black backpack. He put out the fire then approached Max cautiously. He looked down at her. 

"It's for the best, Maxie," he said quietly, then brushed a few strands from her face. 

She nodded and turned away from him, not ready to dissect his feelings. 

They left the house behind. Zack would never think of it again, but Max would choose to remember it as a memory frozen in time. They walked through the forest in relative silence - the only noises were Zack's boots crunching in the snow and twigs and branches snapping under them as they walked. From the direction they were traveling, Max knew they weren't headed to town like she had expected. She had thought that Zack had set up some sort of ride to get them from the town to the airport, but she guessed she was wrong. 

They walked for at least an hour. They stopped at a clearing, a house in the center of it. Zack stared at the house. 

"I don't get it," Max admitted quietly. 

In response, Zack pointed to a row of four snowmobiles on the side of the house. 

Max wanted to make a smart remark about how it was wrong for her to steal a chicken, but it was quite all right to steal a snowmobile, but didn't. She just followed him over to the vehicles and pulled one away from the house. She caught the helmet he tossed to her and put it on. 

"Just follow me," he said then put on his own helmet. 

They started the snowmobiles and drove off. Max only took one look back to see if anyone in the house had noticed their theft. When she saw the soft glow of a light through a window, she knew they hadn't gone unnoticed. 

They rode the snowmobiles for a little over two hours. The machines ran out of gas and the pair abandoned them. 

"It's not much farther anyway," Zack told her as they began walking. 

They walked for about another hour and Max could see the sun creeping up over the horizon. They climbed a hill and when they reached the top, Max got her first glimpse of the airport. "Airport," she felt, was a bit strong for the strip of level land, dilapidated shack, and three crop-duster airplanes. She followed Zack down the hill without complaint, but wondered if the airplanes could even make it to the end of the airstrip without exploding. 

When they reached the edge of the strip, one of the planes drove from its spot in line to a dull white line drawn on the strip - the starting line, Max guessed. 

They walked to the small wooden shack and entered without knocking. The word "mess" was an understatement. There were three desks crowded into the tiny one-room building, each piled high with papers and empty take-out food containers. There was a tiny space heater in the room that was miserably failing at its job. 

A man who was looked like he dressed for an extended stay in Antarctica stood over the heater, rubbing his hands together. When he heard them, he looked over and smiled. 

"Mr. Jones," he said with a nod. 

Zack nodded back and asked, "Is everything ready?" 

"Yeah, everything's up and operational," he said. "The guys will get you to a town in Pennsylvania. We'll have a car pick you both up there and take you to Philadelphia. Everything's booked from there." 

"Good," Zack replied and pulled a wad of cash from his pocket. He tossed it onto a desk and they left the shack. 

When they were back on the airstrip, Max saw that a second plane had pulled out and was waiting behind the first. She turned to Zack and asked, "What's the dealio?" 

"We're traveling in separate planes," Zack explained. "It's a safety precaution, in case one plane is intercepted. We'll meet in Pennsylvania." 

Max nodded and Zack walked to the first plane. Before boarding, he called out, "See you soon, little sister!" 

Max watched as Zack got on the plane. She watched as the plane went down the strip, gaining speed as it went, then she watched it jump into the sky and fly off. 

The captain of the plane she was traveling in opened his door and yelled to her, "Come on! I don't want to get too far behind him! Hey! You comin' or what?" 

Max looked down at her sneakers. 


	7. The Road Home

**Chapter Seven** - _The Road Home_

She stared down at the sneakers and frowned. They had turned a darker shade of red from being wet from the snow. She hated the snow. She wondered how much it snowed in France. It snowed in Pennsylvania. There was probably snow there. She hated the snow. She hated Manticore. She hated Lydecker. At the moment she hated Zack. 

But most of all she hated herself. 

She blinked back the tears that were forming and looked to the sky where Zack's plane had flown off. She ran to her plane and looked up at the pilot. 

"I'm not going to Pennsylvania," she told him. "Can you take me to Washington? Seattle?" 

He nodded. "I get paid no matter where you go, sweetie." 

Normally Max would have kicked his ass for the 'sweetie' remark, but too many thoughts and ideas were racing through her mind to care. She told him to wait, then went back into the wooden shack. 

The man was sitting at a desk, counting Zack's money. He looked up at her and asked, "What're you still doing here?" 

"I'm changing course," she told him. "Can you get a message to my brother when he lands?" 

"Yeah, sure." 

"Tell him… Tell him I went home." 

The man nodded and Max went back to the plane. She got in and when she felt the plane rumble and begin to move forward, she knew there was no going back. She felt the plane take flight and felt every worry, every care settle in the pit of her stomach. She felt like horking. She hated horking. 

The entire plane ride was plagued with analyzing. Max allowed every unanalyzed fact from the past two months and beyond to surface and she dissected each and every one. The only break she got from her thinking was a brief pit stop in North Dakota. The plane had stopped to refuel and have a check up. She had wandered into the nearest restaurant and ate as much as she possibly could. The stop didn't last long enough for her liking, however, and they were back in the air. 

Right around the time that Max was considering jumping from the plane and saving herself the misery of her thoughts, the pilot told her that they would be touching down in ten minutes. 

It was the longest ten minutes of Max's life. 

When the plane touched down on a slick airstrip that Max didn't recognize, she let out a sigh of relief. When the plane had come to a stop, she got out and looked around. She heard the pilot hop to the ground behind her and she turned to him. "Where exactly are we?" 

"A few miles outside Seattle," he answered. He pointed to a small building near the airstrip. "We fly here sometimes. There should be a guy inside, Sparky. Tell him Canada sent ya. He should be able to get you a lift into the city." 

"Thanks," Max said and walked to the building. 

She opened the door and saw that it was a big improvement over the wooden shack in Canada. There was a metal desk set snugly in the corner and it looked relatively neat. There was an armchair on the other side of a room and a small television in front of it. 

"Anyone home?" Max asked. 

A man stood up from the armchair and turned around to look at her. He was about fifty and losing both his hair and figure at a rapid pace. "Who're you?" 

"Uh, Canada sent me," she said. "I'm… Mary." 

"Canada, eh?" the man asked and fished a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. He lit one and took a long drag. "I can't fly ya anywhere. There's a storm coming in." 

"I don't need a flight," Max explained. "My pilot told me you could get me a ride into town." 

The man took another long drag of his cigarette. The tip glowed a bright red and ashes flew from it without grace. She wondered if that was how Sparky got his name. 

"How much ya got?" he asked. 

Max reached into her pocket and fished out only one bill. "Twenty bucks." 

She actually had around fifty, but that was her little secret. 

"That'll get ya a seat in the back," Sparky grunted. He grabbed a coat from near the television and put it on. "Follow me." 

He led her out of the building and to a pickup truck that looked as if it might have been new in 1985. He patted the back, signaling to her that that was where she was to ride, then he climbed into the cab. 

Max climbed into the back and stretched out. She looked at the stars and could feel her chest tighten as the truck started. The bumpy ride to the city gave her plenty more time to think. After nearly flying from the back of the truck thanks to a pothole, she gripped the side for dear life and decided that she would visit her apartment first. She was in need of a hot shower and a fresh change of clothes. Plus, she owed Kendra an explanation. She owed Original Cindy an explanation. Logan had known where she had gone, but she felt she owed something too. 

The truck eventually came to a violent stop. Max looked around and saw that she was on the outer edge of the city. She hopped from the back of the truck and stood by the driver's side door. 

Sparky rolled down the window and accepted the twenty she offered him. "Remember to tell your friends to fly Sparky." 

"Will do," she said dryly, then walked away. 

She heard the truck roar in the opposite direction. She walked the streets, again allowing her thoughts to consume her. She didn't know what elaborate lie she would concoct when she reached the apartment. Would Kendra even let her in? Did Kendra even still keep the apartment? Did she keep her things? What about her baby? 

Finally, she reached the apartment building. She looked up at the shell and frowned. Her questions would be answered soon enough. 


	8. All On Her

**Chapter Eight** - _All On Her_

She climbed the stairs with numb legs. The elevator was still functional, but something within her wanted to delay the inevitable. When she reached the top, she froze. She gripped the railing so tightly that she was afraid she would pull it off the wall. She couldn't move. She couldn't breath. She thought of turning and running. She didn't know where she would run. Maybe to the clapboard in Canada. Maybe to Pennsylvania. Maybe to Logan's apartment. She told herself she was being stupid and walked away from the stairs. She walked down the hall and when she reached the door, she knocked. She knocked because she felt like she didn't live there anymore. 

She heard someone stumble then a soft curse. The door opened slowly and a bleary-eyed Kendra peered out. 

"What?" the woman croaked. 

Max swallowed the lump in her throat. "Hey." 

"Oh, my God," Kendra breathed and opened the door. She looked as if she wanted to say more, but instead stepped into the hall and pulled Max into a bone-crushing hug. 

Max returned the hug and felt a piece of her heart return to her chest. She said quietly, "I missed you." 

"You missed me?" Kendra said and released Max. Tears were falling down her face. "I missed you! I… how's your mother?" 

"My… mother?" 

"Yeah," Kendra said and nodded. "Logan told us that you had to go see her 'cause she was sick. Is she better?" 

Max nodded and felt tears forming. She blinked them away. "Yeah, she's fine now." 

"I'm glad," Kendra said with a smile. She wiped her tears away and gestured for Max to come inside. "Do you want some coffee? I can make coffee." 

"No thanks," Max said. She stepped into the apartment and looked around. Everything was just as she remembered it. She saw her bike in the corner and went over to it. She pushed Kendra's underwear off it and ran a hand over the seat. 

"I thought about putting it in storage," Kendra told her, "but I knew that when you came back you'd climbing the walls waiting to ride it." 

"You have no idea," Max said quietly as she touched the speedometer. 

"Are you going to see Logan?" 

Max turned to face Kendra. "I… I don't think so. Not right now, anyway. I'll let him sleep. Speaking of, why don't you get some rest?" 

"I wanna catch up," the other woman replied. 

"There's plenty of time to catch up," Max said. "I'm back for good." 

Kendra looked apprehensive but nodded. "Yeah, all right. See ya in the morning, Max." 

"See ya," Max replied quietly. 

After Kendra disappeared to her room, Max went to the bathroom and shut the door behind her quietly. She was tempted to take a bath, but wasn't in the mood to transfer pots of water to the tub. Instead, she settled on a hot shower. She tossed her clothes into a corner and stepped into the shower, loving the feel of warm water. In Canada it had been all cold showers and snow. She hated the snow. She allowed the water to wash over her and wash the negativity from her body. She imagined the water was everything that was wrong with her life as it swirled down the drain. 

When the pipes began to clang and the water turned cold, she frowned and turned off the water. She stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around herself, then one around her hair. She walked to her room and examined it closely. Everything was still in its place, just as she had left it - mostly. It was obvious Kendra had moved some things around while cleaning, but other than that, everything was intact. 

She managed to find her bathrobe and slipped it on. She frowned and lay in bed. She rolled onto her side so she could stare out the window. She could make out the blurry orange light from the streetlights that still managed to work and there was no frost on the window - two very great improvements over Canada. When she listened, she could hear the city's sounds - they were a comfort. Another comfort was the sound of Kendra's light, delicate breathing. It was a far cry from Zack's labored and tortured sleep. He never admitted to the nightmares that she knew he had, but she knew they were his only dreams. She had them herself whenever she slept. She only ever dreamed about Manticore - whether it was memories of her own personal hell or nightmares where she was torn from her life and thrown into a cage, Manticore was there. Manticore was always there. 

Suddenly the streetlights weren't offering her the peace they had moments ago. She rolled over onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. 

She began to wonder what Zack would do once her message reached him. He had received it by that point, no doubt about that. Would he continue on to France? Of course not. Without her, the threat was still active. He still had to diffuse the bomb. Would he gather up the sibs and turn their lives upside down because of her? Would they have to find new identities, new jobs, and new friends because she hadn't been a good little soldier? Would Zack come for her and demand her to leave? Would he accept that she wasn't going to go? 

Or would he finally give up and call her what she was to him - a lost cause? 

She decided that, in the end, it would never matter what Zack did or would do. It would be all on her. It had always been all on her. To blame any problem in her life on someone else was stupid and weak. If she wasn't going to take the consequences for her actions, no one else would. Her life was on her shoulders. 

She traced the cracks in the ceiling and wondered at which point it became the best metaphor for her life. 

She hated that night. 

But she hated the snow more. 


	9. Back To The Salt Mine

**Chapter Nine** - _Back To The Salt Mine_

Max had climbed out of bed and got dressed the first time Kendra's alarm clock sounded. By the time she had padded into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee, it had sounded off five more times. By the seventh time, Max had heard a sigh and the sounds of Kendra getting out of bed. She poured two cups of coffee and held hers under her nose for a moment. It was certainly better than any coffee she'd experienced while in Canada's snowy outback. 

"Morning," Kendra greeted as she walked into the room. Her voice was husky from sleep. 

"Good morning," Max greeted, glad for the company. 

"For me?" Kendra asked as she eyed the coffee cup. 

"I don't see anyone else around here, do you?" 

Kendra shrugged then took a generous gulp. "I thought you might've invited Cindy over… or maybe Logan." 

Max took a drink of coffee to put off replying. Was she ready to see Logan? What would she even say? 

"Nah, I figured I'd see OC when I go to work today and beg Normal to give me my job back," she replied, ignoring the subject of Logan entirely. 

"Yeah, he fired your ass the first day you didn't show up," Kendra said with a chuckle. 

"What are you up to today?" Max asked. 

She was reminded of an espionage exercise from Manticore - controlling the conversation. If you asked enough questions at the right times, you could steer the conversation your way and thus control it. She needed to control the conversation with Kendra. She didn't want to think of Logan just yet - and that's where she knew Kendra would go. 

Kendra shrugged and replied, "I'm doing some translating at a convention later tonight, but other than that my day's open. I might go see my mother." 

"She still make those cheesecakes?" Max asked and licked her lips. When Kendra brought home a cheesecake from her mother, Max was always in a better mood. 

"Yeah," Kendra told her, "but it's getting harder for her to find the ingredients." 

"Maybe I can help her with that," Max said, a familiar mischievous twinkle in her eye. "So, any news on the dating front?" 

"Mr. Multiples and I are doing it fine," Kendra replied with a devilish grin. 

"Doing fine, you mean." 

Kendra's grin widened. "I know what I said." 

"While I'd love to hear all about your sexual exploits, Kendra," Max replied with a shake of her head, "I gotta bounce." 

"Good luck," Kendra said and sipped on her coffee. 

Max quickly grabbed her messenger bag and backpack from her room, then grabbed her bicycle and left the apartment. She rode the elevator to the ground floor, then hopped on her bike and pedaled away. 

The ride to Jam Pony was short and uneventful. She stopped on the corner and looked at the building. When she saw a crowd of riders milling around the entrance, some of them popping wheelies and doing other tricks, she smiled brightly. She rode past them and into the building. She coasted down the ramp inside, ignoring Normal's "no bikes inside" policy and loving it. 

She came to a stop in the middle of the room and called out, "Who's a girl gotta see about a job around here?" 

Sketchy was the first to respond. He called out her name then went over to her and pulled her into a bear hug. 

"Okay, Sketch, okay," she said and lightly patted him on the back. 

"You're back," he said, grinning just as goofy as she remembered. 

"That I am," she replied with a nod. 

Herbal was the next to approach her. He gave her a hug and said simply, "Jah works everything out." 

"Damn, you got quite the following, boo." 

Max turned in the direction of the voice and smiled at her best friend. She felt another piece of her heart plant itself firmly in her chest. She couldn't think of what to say. She wanted to tell Original Cindy that she thought about her constantly in Canada. She wanted to admit how many times she wished she had her best friend to turn to and get the straight up truth. But she couldn't say any of it. Instead, she pulled Original Cindy in for a hug and whispered, "I missed you." 

"Original Cindy missed you too," Cindy replied just as quietly. When they pulled apart, OC looked Max up and down. "You need to eat something. What, they don't got any decent food in Georgia?" 

"Georgia, right," Max replied quietly with a nod. She knew she couldn't admit how much those words made her want to cry. "I was eating hospital food for two months." 

"Well, good thing you're back now," OC said. "We can get some decent food in you, and maybe some beer. You up for Crash tonight?" 

"I'm always up for Crash," Max replied and smiled. 

"Original Cindy feels like a broken record, but… I'm glad you're home, boo." 

Max smiled at her friend's words. 

"I hate to break up this touching reunion," Normal's voice broke out, "but I don't pay you people because I enjoy your company! Bip, bip, bip!" 

The small, assembled crowd gave a collective groan but went about their work. 

Normal turned to Max and said, "And what do you think you're doing here, Missy-miss? You're about two months late for work and a lifetime short of opportunities." 

"Normal, look, I was with my sick mother," Max lied. 

"Yeah, I heard the excuses from your fellow hoodlums," he said. 

"Can I have my job back?" she asked sweetly. 

He rolled his eyes at her sugary tone. "Listen here, girly, you better give me 110 or you're out, you're gone, you're on the highway. Got me?" 

"Gotcha," she replied with an obviously fake sweet smile. 

"Get a package and get out of my sight," he grumbled and went back behind his desk. 

She went in the back and opened her old locker. It was just as she had left it. She rummaged through the few belongings she kept in there and pulled out her bottle of tryptophan to check how she was on pills. There were only a few left - she'd have to make a pit-stop on her first run. She felt someone behind her and put the pills back in their place then shut the locker. 

"Sorry ya got your job back," Original Cindy said. It wasn't a question but a condolence. 

"It's not exactly my dream job, but it puts food on the table," Max replied with a shrug. 

Original Cindy leaned against a row of lockers and crossed her arms. "I thought Logan put food on the table." 

Max inwardly berated herself. Of course Cindy would be the one to just go in for the kill. She played it calm, cool. "I helped sometimes." 

"Are you going to see him?" 

Her mouth was suddenly dry. Why was it dry? She needed a drink. She kept up her act of playing it cool. She shrugged. "I was thinking about it." 

"Thought so," OC replied quietly. She stared at the ground for a few moments before looking up at her best friend. "Max, I - I think there's something you should know - about Logan." 

Max felt what little pieces of her heart she had regained drop to the floor. "Wh - What? He's not hurt, is he?" 

"No, nothing like that," OC continued. "It's just… well, the last couple times he came to see me or Kendra at Crash… he… he wasn't alone." 

Yeah, she definitely needed a drink. Her mouth was _very_ dry. 

"Wasn't… alone?" 

Original Cindy nodded. "He was with a woman. Blonde, pretty. I half hoped she was playing for my team, but that's not the feeling I got. I don't know how serious it is, or maybe was, I don't know, but… sorry, boo." 

"No, it's cool," she brushed it off, though her heart met with the floor and shattered. "We weren't even like that." 

"Yeah," Cindy said quietly. "I think I better get to work." 

"Okay," Max replied with a nod. 

After Cindy had walked off, Max took a seat on the bench. Thoughts began assaulting her. She tried telling herself that she and Logan really weren't like that, and it didn't matter if he'd found someone else - someone blonde. She leaned down and rested her head on the bench. What had she expected? Logan thought she was gone for good - forever - why shouldn't he move on? Had he _really_ moved on? 

There was only one way to find out. 

**A/N:** Okay, well, I am leaving for the UK on Saturday (tomorrow) and will not be able to update until I return on the 21st. I'll try to post another chapter tomorrow but I can't make any promises. I'll be very busy. As soon as I get back I will update, I promise! 


	10. Talentless

**A/N:** This is very last minute. Now I'm off to the airport. 

**Chapter Ten** - _Talentless_

Welcome back parties were supposed to be happy occasions, ones filled with stupid stories and broad smiles. Deep down, Max knew this. But thoughts of Logan and a blonde woman were closer to the surface and a pitcher of beer was close to her fingertips. She drank her beer silently, only half listening to the stories Sketchy was telling. She stared at a crack in the wall and sipped her beer, feeling as if it hurt too much to think. But all she could do was think - think about missed opportunities and about Logan's hands running through blonde hair. 

She finished off her glass and reached for the beer pitcher. Original Cindy slapped her hand away. 

"You had enough," her friend admonished. 

Max shook her head. She could still feel. She hadn't had enough. "I'm not drunk." 

"Yeah, okay," Original Cindy said and rolled her eyes. "Boo, I just watched you drink three pitchers almost entirely by yourself. That makes a girl drunk." 

"But not me," Sketchy added in with a belch. 

"That's straight up disgusting," Cindy said and shook her head. 

"I'm not drunk," Max said and poured herself another glass. It was the truth. It took more than a few pitchers to get her drunk. Another pitcher would have had her only merely buzzed. Sometimes she hated her DNA. 

Original Cindy wrenched the glass from Max's vice-like grip. Max had let her. Something within her told her that her answers didn't lie in the bottom of a beer glass. 

Original Cindy leaned over to Max so that no one else could hear her words. "Look, I know why you're down. You're upset 'cause of what I told you at work today and I know you ain't gonna stop bein' upset until you sort that bitch out with your man." 

"He's not my man." 

"Original Cindy calls bullshit," Cindy replied then took a sip from Max's glass. "Why don't you go and talk to him. These jokers are faded - they won't notice you leave." 

Max looked at her friend. "Thanks." 

Max stood and put her jacket on. She walked to the exit, but stopped when she Kendra at the bar. She was barely smiling as some Neanderthal in a muscle shirt was all over her. Kendra had nearly matched Max for drinks, which meant that she was in no state of mind to make the decision Max guessed she was thinking about. She walked over to the guy and tapped him on the shoulder. 

"You need to leave her alone _now_." 

He looked at her and gave her a "screw off" look, then turned back to Kendra. 

She grabbed him by the shirt collar and pulled him off the stool discreetly so that no one would notice her show of strength. "I said _now_." 

"Oh, screw off," the guy grumbled and pushed Max. 

Max rolled her eyes. "I'm in no mood to deal with this right now. I suggest you get up and leave my friend alone before I stop being so nice." 

"Hi, Max," Kendra greeted sloppily. 

The man fished a five-dollar bill from his pocket and waved it in her face. "Here's five for you to leave me the hell alone. Maybe I'll leave another one on the dresser for the morning." 

"That's my last nerve," Max said and shook her head. 

She moved closer to the man so no one could really see her actions, then kneed him in the stomach and then again in the grain. Once he had doubled over, she brought her brought her elbow down sharply on the side of his face. He dropped to the ground and whimpered. She stepped over him and helped Kendra up from her seat. 

"Where we goin'?" Kendra asked. Max could smell the alcohol on her breath. 

"I'm taking you home," Max told her. 

They stepped over the man (with Max giving him a good kick) and managed to make it to Max's motorcycle without much difficulty. The ride back to the apartment was interesting to say the least. Max had to keep a careful watch on Kendra - and had to stop once so Kendra could vomit over the side. Once they reached the apartment, Max got Kendra some water and crackers, then settled her into bed. 

"Sorry I ruined your party," Kendra said quietly. She had sobered up a little - very little. 

"You didn't," Max told her. "Get some rest. I'm gonna go back out." 

Kendra nodded and made herself comfortable. 

Max walked through the shower curtains that separated Kendra's room from the rest of the apartment and paced the length of the living room. 

Finally, she decided to make a big mistake and go to Logan's apartment. 

She flew through town on her motorcycle at twice her normal speed. She reached the parking garage in record time and left her bike near the Aztek - a little routine she had sorely missed. 

The elevator ride was hell and the walk to his door was even worse. As she stood in front of his door, she felt the bile and beer rising in her stomach. She swallowed hard and knocked almost just as hard. She heard footsteps approaching the door and again felt like vomiting. 

When the door opened, she expected she would vomit all over Bling - but the footsteps hadn't belonged to Bling. 

She found herself face to face with an enemy worse than Manticore - a blonde. 

"Can I help you?" the woman asked. 

Max stared at her. 

Leaving was a talent. 

And Max found herself talentless. 


	11. Enemy

**A/N:** I'm back from the UK! It was _amazing_. After I got back I went to a Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers concert then gave myself a day of rest. I'm back now and you can expect a chapter a day or perhaps two. On with the story. 

**Chapter Eleven** - _Enemy._

Max had been speechless very few times in her life. She had been speechless at Manticore, she had been speechless when she tried to comfort Theo's son, and she had been speechless as she stood in front of the blonde woman. She took in this woman - the enemy - and again wanted to hork. She was tall - a bit taller than herself - and had blue eyes. _Of course_ she had blue eyes. Her figure wasn't bad either, but Max felt hers was better. At least that's what the nasty little voice in her head told her. It was the same voice that told her to say to hell with everyone and go off on her own. It wasn't a voice she liked very much. 

"Um," Max paused to lick her lips. "Is Logan in?" 

Max inwardly groaned. Was that really the best she could come up with? 

"Yes, he is," the woman said. "Is he expecting you?" 

Max actually let out a little chuckle. She hadn't meant to. She cleared her throat and answered, "Not really." 

The woman nodded and stepped aside so Max could enter the apartment. 

A flurry of memories assaulted Max as she stepped over the threshold. 

"He's in the kitchen," the woman said before walking off. 

Max smelled the air. Pasta. Sauce. Chicken. She was interrupting dinner. She didn't care. She walked to the kitchen and paused in the doorway. The woman wasn't in there, but Logan was. She watched him quietly for a minute. He was sitting on a stool at the butcher-block island chopping vegetables. She watched him and took in every skilled movement. The way his hands moved, the way he hummed some classical piece she barely recognized, the way his hair was perfectly gelled, and the way the blue turtleneck clung to him made her speechless. And Max was rarely speechless. 

She licked her lips another time and found her voice. She said quietly, "Knock knock." 

Logan looked up in shock and forgot what he was doing. He cut his finger and let out a pained curse. 

Max rushed forward. She quickly wet a dishcloth and brought it over to him then pressed it down on his finger. 

"Sorry," she apologized quietly. "That wasn't exactly the way I saw that going." 

"Jesus," was all Logan could manage. 

She looked up at him with a wry smirk. "No, it's Max." 

"What… How… I… _Jesus_." 

"I'm back," she told him. She felt stupid for saying it, but she couldn't think of anything else to say. 

"How? Why?" 

"Zack wanted to relocate… to France," she said then lifted the towel to check the bleeding. It wasn't bad, but she pressed the towel down again to be sure. She looked into his eyes and said, "I couldn't go." 

She had tried to keep all traces of emotion from her voice but failed miserably. Every part of her, every feeling, every _everything_ had been packed into those three simple words. 

"I thought I'd never see you again," he admitted. His tone matched hers. 

"I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have left the city. I shouldn't have left y -" 

"Logan, I forgot if you said the '85 or the '95 so I - what happened?" 

Max took a step back from Logan. She watched as the blonde walked over to him and lifted the dishtowel. 

"Oh, ouch," she said and sucked in a breath. "Have some trouble with the vegetables?" 

Logan threw a glance at Max and replied, "Not exactly." 

"So, was it the '85 or the '95?" she asked. 

"The '95," he answered. 

She nodded, then turned to Max. "Are you staying for dinner?" 

"No," Max replied and looked at Logan. 

"I'll go put this back," the blonde said with a smile then left the kitchen carrying the unneeded bottle of wine. 

"Her name's Deedra," he said quietly. 

"She seems nice," Max replied. She had wanted it to seem as if she really meant it, but she wasn't sure if her voice had betrayed her again. 

"Max, I -" 

"You don't have to explain," she cut him off. "I was gone. I didn't expect you to… I mean, we weren't even -" 

"I want to explain," he said. "After you left… I can't even explain to you how I felt. It was like…" 

"You could look at your heart but not touch it or feel it?" she offered quietly. 

His eyes lit up. "That's it exactly." 

"Yeah, well, Canada gives you time to think," Max replied with a shrug. 

Deedra's voice came from the living room, "How much longer?" 

"Not long," Logan called back. He turned back to Max. "I still want to explain." When she didn't reply, he continued. "After you left, after the first month, I didn't know what to do with myself. I moped around the apartment, barely showered, didn't make a broadcast - I didn't do anything. Margo threw a party and Bling made me go. That's where I met her. We talked and… I don't know. She made me feel something. I hadn't felt in over a month. It was… nice." 

Max nodded and kept her tears in. The last person she would let see her cry was Logan. "Okay. Well, I don't want to keep you from dinner." 

She turned and walked to the door. When she reached the kitchen doorway, his next words froze her. 

"I don't love her, you know." 

He hadn't been sure why he said it, but he knew he had to. 

"See you around, Logan." 

She hadn't known why he'd said that, but it helped. 


	12. Early Morning Revelations

**Chapter Twelve** - _Early Morning Revelations_

Max stood on top of the Space Needle, happy to have the wind whipping across her face and the entire city below her, just tiny balls of light. It reminded her of the only time in Canada she had sought solace in height. She had sneaked away from the house one night while Zack was asleep and climbed to the top of the tallest building in town - City Hall. All she could see for miles was dense forest and snow. She hated snow. 

She sighed and sat down so that her legs were dangling over the edge of the Needle. She couldn't keep her mind off Logan, which didn't surprise her much. What did surprise her was how much she thought of the blonde - Deedra. She seemed really pleasant, which made it hard to turn her into the bad guy. Maybe, she reasoned, Deedra wasn't the bad guy. Maybe there was no bad guy. Maybe it had all been a series of events that led to a conclusion she found dissatisfying. Maybe it was phony sentimentality. 

She knew it was more than that. Phony sentimentality didn't feel like a drill sergeant's boot on your neck and a knife in your already destroyed heart. There was only one thing that made a person feel like that, and Max wasn't sure if she was ready for it. She wasn't sure if Logan was ready for it yet either, but she was glad about that. At least he wasn't sure about it thanks to Deedra. That was a small consolation for her. It meant he wasn't in love with another woman, but it did mean he would continue on with his life with a blonde and maybe he would be ready for it. And she wouldn't be there. She wouldn't be there and another woman would. 

Sometimes life wasn't fair. 

Sometimes life was like snow. It buried you until you were too cold to feel anymore. 

She rubbed her temples and tried not to think. She found it particularly hard. The dull throbbing in her chest had started again - something she hoped to rid herself of when she left Canada. It was a stubborn pain and she couldn't help but feel as if she deserved it somehow - deserved it for leaving, deserved it for all the lying. She wondered idly if there was something wrong with the old ticker and put a hand over her heart. 

"Only an X5 could have this much mental anguish," she muttered to herself and dropped her hand in her lap. 

She stared down at the city and wondered what sort of problems the rest of the inhabitants were dealing with. Some of them might have rivaled her own, even. She didn't know many people who listed a government agency as one of their issues. 

She thought of her siblings. She wondered if Zack was with one of them, telling them that the bomb was going to go off and that they needed to get somewhere safe - somewhere very far away from their life. She wished she could apologize. She wished for a lot of things that she knew could never be true. 

She pulled herself up from the edge and took a final look at the city before going back into the abandoned observation deck of the Space Needle. She made her way to the bottom and hopped on her motorcycle, a new idea fresh in her mind. 

She needed Logan to explain his words. 

_Now_. 

The drive to Fogle Towers was quick and reckless. The jog from the parking garage to his doorstep was quick and filled with worry. Her biggest worry was that Deedra would still be at his apartment. It was 2AM. 

She picked the lock and slipped inside. She listened closely and smiled when she heard the _tap tap tap_ that meant only one thing. 

She walked to the computer room and knocked on the doorframe. "Anybody home?" 

He froze for a moment before wheeling the chair around so he could face her. "You came back." 

"I had to." 

"You hungry?" 

"Not for leftovers." 

"I can make something fresh." 

She stepped away from the doorway and gestured for him to go first. She watched him wheel past her and allowed every thought to cloud her mind. Maybe if she were distracted she wouldn't admit the truth. 

When they reached the kitchen, she took a seat at the butcher-block island and watched him silently. As he pulled some ham and Swiss cheese from the fridge, she saw that he had a bright blue bandage on his finger. 

"Sorry about your finger, by the way," she said. 

"Don't worry about it," he replied as he began making the sandwiches. 

"I don't have it in me to do small talk right now," she told him honestly. "I'm so over small talk at this point. You know, I'd lie awake at night in that creaky house and think about how much damage small talk really does. It makes you back track. I hate back tracking." 

"I do too," he said and placed the plate of sandwiches on the butcher-block island. He transferred to a seat across from her and crossed his arms. "I meant what I said before you left. I think you should know that." 

She picked up one of the halves of her sandwich and began picking it apart, but didn't eat it. "That's… something. Do you like her?" 

"I do," his answer was full of reluctance. He wanted to admit that she wasn't even close to comparing with Max, but he knew it wasn't the time. Not yet. 

"I'm glad you found someone to keep you company," she said. She winced. "Sorry, I'm - I'm trivializing everything. I don't have any right." 

"You don't," he said, "but… it's all right. I can deal." 

She dropped her abused sandwich back onto the plate and dusted off the crumbs from her hands. She looked into his eyes and said, "You have no idea how many times I imagined coming back." 

"Probably about as many as I imagined you coming back," he replied quietly. 

Her throat was suddenly very dry again. She got up and got a glass then filled it with cold water from the tap. She took a long drink then set it on the island. She stood at the end of the butcher-block island, staring at what she had done to her sandwich. She wanted to laugh at the latest metaphor for her life but didn't. It wasn't the time. 

She watched as Logan's hand came to rest on top of hers. It wasn't right. He wasn't hers anymore - not totally. She looked at him and swallowed the lump in her throat. 

As they leaned into each other and their lips met, she didn't want to be right. 


	13. Touch and Go

**Chapter Thirteen** - _Touch and Go_

Red flags, red sirens, red stop signs, red lights - Max's head was filled with the color red. She was tempted to think green and deepen the kiss, but the reds got the best of her and she tore herself away. She removed her hand from under his and stepped away. She knew her eyes were telling him everything, but she just couldn't get them to shut up. 

"I can't, we can't," she said. 

She ran a hand through her hair and wondered why she was keeping herself from doing what she wanted. Because she always did what was right. If it meant keeping herself from happiness, she did it anyway. It was Logan's influence, she knew, and she wondered if he was kicking himself over it. 

"You're right," he admitted. He didn't sound happy about it. 

"It doesn't feel right," she said. "Deedra's… right now she's the enemy. Sorry to think Manticore here, but she's my enemy in all this - and I still can't even do that to her. God, you really screwed me up, Logan!" 

His eyes widened. "I screwed you up? _I_ screwed _you_ up?" 

"Yeah," she said and nodded furiously. "If it was the me before you, we'd still be in that kiss right now. But it's the post-Logan Cale me and… and I'm your field commander!" 

Logan's lips twisted into a grin at her reference, but the smile lasted a very short time. He let out a long breath. "I don't know what to do here, Max." 

She slid back into her chair across from him and said, "We can talk. First, here I go doing the damn right thing - I don't want you to give Deedra the brush off tomorrow. She must be making you happy if you've been… seeing her for a month now. I - I don't want to mess it up for you. She could be…" 

"She's not," he interrupted. 

"You don't know that," Max told him. 

"I do," Logan insisted. 

She shook her head. "Just promise me you won't. God, I can't even believe I'm doing this! What've you done to me, Logan?" 

"Created a monster, it looks like," he replied quietly. 

"It snows a lot in Canada," she said suddenly. She stared down at her mess of a sandwich again. "I mean, you think you know it snows a lot when you go there, but when you get there, you realize you had no idea. You had no damn idea and you're suddenly trapped in a blizzard." 

Logan took a drink from Max's glass of water then said, "My friends and I went to Canada once when we were eighteen - so we could drink. Needless to say, I don't really remember Canada." 

"You're lucky then," she said and began ripping apart Logan's untouched sandwich. "I can't shake the memories." 

"What did Zack say when you left?" he asked. 

"Well," she said, "I didn't exactly tell him. We were getting ready to go to France and there were two planes. We were gonna meet in Pennsylvania and take a commercial out of Philly, but… I never made it to Pennsylvania. I had them deliver a message to him when he landed. God only knows what he's doing right now." 

"He'll come back for you," Logan stated. He watched for her expression. 

"No, I think he's done with me now," she said and began to shred the sandwich into even smaller bits. "I think he'll finally wash his hands of me after this one." 

"He won't," he told her. "He cares about you, and I don't mean like a brother." 

She stopped shredding the sandwich but didn't look up at him. She kept her eyes on the sandwiches and thought of the last night she was in heat. Her brow furrowed. 

"The town we were in didn't even have a name." 

He accepted her change of subject. "How'd everyone get their mail?" 

"Don't know," she replied with a shrug. "We weren't exactly hoping for any letters from Lydecker, ya know?" 

"I missed you," he said. "I don't know how many times I can say that." 

"Have you ever stared at a ceiling?" she asked suddenly. 

Confused, he shook his head. 

"It's weird," she said, an unfamiliar dreamy quality in her voice. "The ceiling is plain, there's no designs, but it makes you think. The more you think, the more color the ceiling seems to get. It's like your painting it with your thoughts. It's stupid, yeah, but it was comforting. In Canada, I mean. In Manticore it was always institution gray, but then after the escape, the world was in color. My world hasn't had much color in the past two months." 

He had no idea what she was really talking about, but he understood. "I know what you mean. It's sort of like life is actually hitting you right now, whereas before it was just sort of… punching around you." 

"Yeah," she replied quietly with a nod. 

"Max," he asked tentatively, "you know I won't listen to you, right? About Deedra, I mean." 

"I know," she admitted. "We've affected each other too much by this point. I'm helping little old ladies with their groceries and you're breaking innocent hearts." 

"Freaky Friday," he murmured. 

"Hmm?" 

"Nothing." 

"Well," she said and pushed the plates of sandwiches away, "I should get going. You need sleep… or rather, you need to lie to me and tell me you'll sleep but really go back to work." 

He looked down at the plate of sandwiches and smirked. "Look at the mess you made." 

Max kept all smart remarks to herself. 


	14. Couldn't Blame Her

**Chapter Fourteen** - _Couldn't Blame Her_

It had been a hot run to Lexington when her pager sounded shrilly. She saw Logan's number and decided to ignore the call. She just delivered the package and swung in the direction of Fogle Towers. If Normal asked, she'd have an excuse. She hadn't thought of it yet, but when he asked, it would be on the tip of her tongue. 

She left her bicycle near the Aztek and made her way to the apartment. She picked the lock and let herself in. 

"Logan!" 

"In here," came his muffled reply. 

She found him in the kitchen, cradling a bowl of something and a wooden spoon clamped tightly between his teeth. She regarded him closely and allowed herself a smile. It all felt so… familiar. 

"So, what's the emergency?" she asked and slid onto a stool at the butcher-block island. 

"Lunch." 

"I'm on the clock," Max said, "so… perfect. What are you making?" 

"Brownies," he said and gestured to the bowl. In doing so, he dropped the spoon. It hit his shirt, smearing the front with brownie mix. "Damn." 

He set the bowl and spoon on the counter. "I'm gonna go change and throw this in the wash." 

After he had wheeled out of the room, Max grabbed the spoon from the bowl and wiped her finger along the edge. Once she had an acceptable amount of batter on her finger, she licked it off and thought of how much she would really enjoy the dessert. Before she could get another taste, there was a knock at the door. Deciding to sing for her supper - or rather, answer the door for her lunch - she got up and went to the door. 

She opened it and immediately regretted her decision. 

Deedra was at the door, looking a bit surprised. 

"Oh, hello." Deedra had tried to make it seem as if she had always had strange women open Logan's door for her. She hadn't been very successful. 

"Hi," Max said and stepped aside. 

Deedra brushed past her and went into the kitchen. 

Max closed the door and followed. She slid back onto her seat and eyed up the brownie batter. 

The most uncomfortable silence of Max's life occurred soon after. For the first time in a long time, Max's thoughts didn't consume her. She had only one thought and it was quite simple: Oh. Shit. 

Deedra turned to her finally. She examined Max closely and Max tried her best to stare ahead and look very neutral. 

"You're the woman from the pictures." 

Max turned to her. "I'm sorry?" 

"The pictures," Deedra said slowly. "In his office. They're of you." 

Max could remember the pictures Deedra meant. Bling had insisted on taking photos of her and Logan at different stages of annoyance to use to annoy them at later dates. When the photos returned, both Max and Logan were surprised to find some not-so-bad pictures of themselves amidst the scowls and rolling eyes. Yes, she was the woman from the pictures. 

"Oh, right, in the office," Max said and nodded. 

"You're much more beautiful in person," Deedra commented. 

Max had the sudden urge to admit the kiss to the other woman. She felt terrible. "Thank you." 

"You're Max, aren't you?" 

"Yes." 

"Logan talks about you… a lot," Deedra said, then added a small laugh. "I felt like I'd known you as well." 

"He's a real descriptive storyteller," Max replied and mentally kicked herself. 

"It's more than that," Deedra said, suddenly quiet. "He cares about you, you know… and not just like a friend." 

Max froze. Was there an echo in Logan's apartment? 

"Deedra, I don't -" 

"You don't have to explain," she interrupted. "I understood since he first started talking about you. He said you left and you probably weren't coming back, but… I don't know, something in his voice sort of seemed like he hoped you would." 

Max felt like Deedra had hit her with a lead pipe. In a good way. Almost. 

"He doesn't have any pictures of me, you know," Deedra continued. "We've had pictures taken together - at parties and things like that. I've given him copies, but… I've never made it into the office. There's only room for one set of pictures in there." 

Max was speechless very rarely in life. Well, she had used to be speechless very rarely, but lately she'd felt as if the only thing she ever had been was speechless. 

"I don't blame you," Deedra said. "I don't blame him. You can't blame people for being in love." 

"Oh, we're not -" 

Deedra smiled sadly and interrupted, "I think I'm going to go. Tell Logan… tell him I had a really nice time." 

Max could only nod. 

Deedra offered a sad smile and left the apartment. 

A few minutes after Deedra left, Logan came back into the kitchen, wearing a new shirt. 

"Who was that?" he asked as he pulled the bowl of batter back into his lap. 

"Deedra," Max answered quietly. "And Logan… she had a nice time." 

"I don't get it," Logan answered slowly. 

Max looked at him and smiled. 

You couldn't blame her for being in love. 

**A/N:** You know a fic is running your life when your first waking thought is simply, "Max." 


	15. Uninvited Guests

**Chapter Fifteen** - _Uninvited Guests_

Max frowned as she perused the contents of her closet. Finding something wear was usually a very easy task for her - reach in, grab, wear - but that night she couldn't find a single outfit she liked. She felt Original Cindy and Kendra behind her. She could feel their grins and snickers hot on her back like shrapnel. They were trying to be supportive, she knew, but did they have to be so damn smug about it? Sure, they had been right all along, but that wasn't the point. The point was that she was having a clothing crisis. 

"I say just go naked," Kendra suggested. "It'll save a lot of time when you get there and have your way with him." 

Max rolled her eyes and dug deeper into the closet. 

"It's too cold for naked," Original Cindy said. She grinned then added, "She should at least wear underwear." 

"Yes, yes, you're both _terribly clever_," Max mumbled. 

Kendra let out a laugh. "Aw, I think she's nervous." 

"I am _not_ nervous," Max replied smoothly. It was a lie, of course, but she thought she sounded very convincing. 

"Why don't you borrow something from me?" Kendra offered. 

"She's going on a date with Logan, not one of your hotboys," Cindy said. "She needs to look good not…" 

"Extremely doable?" Kendra offered. 

Max rubbed her temples, not believing she was actually hearing this conversation. To avoid having to hear the rest of the conversation - which had moved on to Kendra's latest encounter with Mr. Multiples - she grabbed the first things her hands landed on - a pair of black pants and a simple blue top. She headed into the bathroom, her hands over her ears, but her superior genetics kept that from helping. She still heard every word. 

She closed the door behind her and set the change of clothes on top of the hamper. 

She went over to the mirror and examined herself closely. Her face was more sallow and waxy than she remembered. She touched her cheek and wondered when her face had first begun to look so hollow. Did the face change when her eyes lost their spark? Or did the eyes follow everything else? 

"Canada really did a number on you," she told her reflection quietly. She rolled her eyes. "You really did a number on yourself." 

She pushed her hair behind her ears and turned on the cold water. After splashing a good portion of cold water on her face, she turned the water off and looked in the mirror again. She barely recognized the soggy woman in front of her. 

She dried off and quickly changed her clothes, then took a deep breath and went back to her room. Original Cindy and Kendra were sitting on her bed, smiling. 

"You look great," Kendra told her. 

"Boo, you look better than great," Original Cindy said. "That boy won't be able to keep his hands off you." 

Max smiled at them but wondered if they saw the same face that she had seen in the mirror. 

"Thanks," she replied. "I better bounce." 

After a few good-byes and good lucks from her friends, Max left the apartment, carefully wheeling her precious motorcycle along beside her. 

She tried to think as little as possible as she roared down the street toward the little Italian market that Logan had asked her to stop at. He had been insistent on the perfect champagne and she had been insistent on picking it up. It was another one of her tricks to delay the inevitable - the inevitable _what_ she didn't know. Part of her told her she was overreacting and another part told her she wasn't reacting enough. She didn't know what side to listen to anymore. It seemed like every bit of her was pulling her in a new direction - she was just waiting for the seams to burst. 

The stop at the Italian market was quicker than she liked. When she had approached the counter, a man smiled at her and handed her a bottle of champagne and explained to her that Logan had called in advance. Of course Logan had called in advance. She should have planned on that. 

With the champagne safely secured on her bike, she drove off in the direction of Logan's apartment. Much to her dismay, she got there quickly. She took the stairs instead of the elevator and told herself she was stupid for doing so. She didn't have anything to worry about. 

She pushed open the door and stepped inside the apartment. More memories rushed at her, but she fought them away. She wasn't ready for memories - yet. She heard movement in the computer room and decided to sneak up on him. 

She reached the doorway and stepped in, ready to yell "Boo" or something as equally surprising. 

Instead, her eyes widened and she dropped the bottle of champagne. She barely registered the loud shatter and the expensive liquid that was currently soaking her shoes. 

"Zack?" 

**A/N:** Of course Zack would come back. He's _Zack_. If I do things like this to characters I like, can you imagine what I do to the ones I strongly dislike? Maimed and mentally tortured, mostly. 


	16. Off Course

**Chapter Sixteen** - _Off Course_

Max watched Zack rise out of his chair and cross his arms, then looked to Logan, who seemed to be thoroughly displeased. She told herself it wasn't happening. Zack was busy somewhere else in the country, he wasn't standing there in front of her. Her evening with Logan was still fine. Whatever lies she had been telling herself had disappeared when she heard an unfamiliar voice ask, "What are you doing here?" 

It was her own voice. She felt like she might faint. 

"Where else would I find you?" Zack replied coolly. 

"That's not what I meant," she said, anger slowly bubbling to the surface, "and you know it." 

"I got your message," Zack spat. 

"That was why I sent it," she said and jammed her hands in her jacket pockets. Old habits died hard, it seemed. 

Zack shook his head. "I can't believe you did this." 

"Don't act too surprised," Max said. "You were always telling me about staying safe and how I wasn't careful. Don't tell me some part of you didn't expect this." 

"I thought you changed," Zack told her. "I thought you… I thought a lot of things. A lot of stupid things it seems." 

He looked angrily at Logan. 

"Don't do this, Zack," she said forcefully. "Don't make that mistake." 

"Mistake?" he shot back. "Mistake? You're the one who made the mistake, Max. This is -" 

"Phony sentimentality," she bit. "I know. I know that's what you think. When I asked you if you ever had a friend and you never answered… Zack, that gave me all the answers I needed." 

He walked toward her. The champagne sloshed under his boots and the pieces of bottle he stepped on crunched. 

All she could think of was snow. 

He grabbed her arm roughly and pushed her into the next room. 

"Hey!" Logan called angrily and followed them. 

"Stay out of this!" Zack growled at him. 

"Leave him out of this," Max said, feeling her face go red with anger. "It isn't about him!" 

Zack stepped closer to her and scowled. "Of course it's about him! It's _always_ been about him, Max! You think I was blind in Canada? It was always him." 

"What are you even doing here?" she asked quietly and took a step back. 

"I came back to try and change your mind," Zack told her. It was obvious he was trying to calm himself. "I talked to Jondy, Max. She said she misses you." 

"You bastard," Max breathed. "Don't you dare try to use that against me!" 

"Come with me," Zack pleaded. 

"How could I ever go anywhere with you again?" Max said. "I tried being your sister and was only ever your prisoner, Zack." 

"I can do better, Maxie," he said, rolling his emotions into one neat package again. "I'll take you to Jondy. You can stay with her. It's safer there." 

He grabbed her hand but she pulled it away. 

She told him, "I'd rather die here than live somewhere else." 

He shook his head and made his way toward an open window - the way he had gotten in. He placed a foot on the sill then turned to face her. 

"Do want you want, but you're throwing away your freedom," he said, new anger evident in his voice. 

She crossed her arms and bit off, "Consider it a moment of weakness." 

Zack turned and jumped out the window. 

Max stormed over to the window and looked out. Zack was gone, of course. She slammed the window shut and stood in front of it, not wanting to face Logan. She could only imagine what Zack had told him. She wanted to kill Zack. She wanted to pound on his chest until he admitted that she was right to stay in Seattle. She wanted a brother. She stared out into the emptiness of the city and felt like crying. She felt like allowing every sob she'd kept in during her short life to creep out, but instead she hunched her shoulders and kept it all in. She was good at keeping it all in. It seemed as if leaving wasn't her only talent. 

She heard the wheelchair retreat from the room and blinked back tears. Logan was probably disgusted with her. He was probably tired of the problems she brought to his doorstep. She thought he was probably a lot of things. There was only so much a person could take. 

She rubbed a hand over her face and ignored her slight reflection in the window. She heard the wheelchair behind her and braced herself. She would simply turn around, apologize, and leave. She wouldn't bother Logan any longer. 

She turned around slowly, expecting to find him behind her, looking disappointed and angry. Instead, she found him with a rag and a broom, sweeping up the champagne mess. She walked over to him and gingerly took the rag from his hand. She stepped inside the computer room so she could better reach the mess then dropped to her knees and began wiping up the liquid. 

"You don't have to do that." 

She noted the strain in his voice but didn't stop what she was doing. "It's my mess. It's my fault. I'll clean it up." 

"It's all right," he said gently and grabbed her hand. He held it in his own and rubbed lazy circles on her palm with his thumb. 

"God, Logan," she sighed and dropped the rag, "when did it all get this bad?" 

"I wouldn't say bad," he said and tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear, "just… a little off course." 

You couldn't blame her for being in love. 


	17. The Crash

**Chapter Seventeen** - _The Crash_

Max made Logan leave the mess to her. She shooed him into the kitchen and told him to finish up with dinner. She mopped up the champagne with the rag then brushed all the broken bottle pieces into the dustpan. She shook her head at the mess and thought of what a waste it was. A perfectly good bottle of champagne, wasted on Zack and the floor. 

She walked to the kitchen and emptied the contents of the dustpan into the garbage can. 

"Where should I put this?" she asked and held up the rag. 

"You can just trash it," he said and began plating the food. 

Max dropped the rag into the trash then sat on one of the stools at the butcher-block island. "You mind if we eat here? I'm not really in a dining room sort of mood anymore." 

Logan nodded and placed a plate of food in front of her. He set his plate down before transferring to one of the stools. 

Max picked at her food, barely hungry anymore. It was quite the accomplishment to make her lose her appetite - a craft that Zack had plenty of time to perfect. Her brow furrowed as she thought of him. She knew her mind should be on her meal, on her company, but she couldn't rid her brother from her troubled mind. She worried about him. Despite their volatile relationship, she worried about him. She worried about all of her family, but Zack was something different. He put himself in danger on purpose, with protecting them all in mind, but he never realized that they could all take care of themselves. She knew that omission would be his downfall. It was his weakness - the only thing Lydecker might be able to use against him. 

"Penny for your thoughts?" 

She looked to Logan and tried her best to smile. "They're not worth a penny, trust me." 

"They must be worth something if you're not finished eating already," he replied. 

She shrugged and pushed her plate away. "I just have a lot on my mind is all. A lot of… family stuff. A lot of… stuff." 

"Stuff," he repeated with a nod. "You okay?" 

She bit her lower lip and nodded. She was distracted. Everything with Zack had brought out all the memories from Canada she had been fighting to suppress. She remembered Logan's words and frowned deeply. 

"I can't stop thinking about Zack," she said quietly. "It's stupid, I know, but… I can't stop thinking about him and what you said and…" 

She wanted to finish "that one night" but didn't. She wasn't sure how Logan would react to that story and honestly, she didn't want to find out. It was all right to keep things hidden if it prevented heartbreak, plus she didn't want to think about it herself. It only made her realize she didn't have the brother she thought she did. 

"He's family," Logan said after a while. "Family's important." 

She shook her head, knowing that wasn't it. She knew that he was aware that that wasn't it either, but didn't say anything more on the subject. 

For the first time in a long time, she rubbed her hand on the back of her neck, allowing her fingers to dance briefly over her barcode. 

"I just wish it wasn't so hard," she said. "Whatever happened to easy?" 

"I don't think easy was ever an option for you, Max." 

Max thought that was the understatement of the century. "I'm kinda hating my options at this point." 

Logan pushed his own plate away then transferred to his wheelchair. "What do you say we forget dinner and play some chess?" 

"I'm up for that," Max replied and slid off her seat. 

She went to the living room and made herself comfortable on the leather sofa. She watched Logan pull the chess set from its drawer in the entertainment center and smiled to herself. She felt normal again. She pretended for a moment that her time in Canada had been a nightmare and that she had never left Logan. She smiled at the thought. 

"Ready to lose?" he asked with a grin as he began setting up the board on the coffee table. 

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Max returned playfully. She changed positions on the couch and tucked her feet under her body. 

"I'm feeling lucky tonight," he said then turned the chessboard around so that Max had to play the white pieces. 

"A new strategy?" she asked and moved a pawn forward. 

He rested his elbow on his knee then rested his chin on his fist. "Well, it was. You were supposed to make a dramatic first move so I could predict the rest of your moves throughout the game. Instead, you move a pawn a space. Is this a new form of torture?" 

"If you consider losing at chess a torture," she replied with a small shrug. She had to admit that his determined face was a pleasure to watch. 

He moved a rook forward. 

"Are you _sure_?" she teased. 

"I was," he mumbled quietly. He hadn't taken his hand off the piece so he was free to move it back to its original spot. Before he could pull his hand all the way back, however, Max had reached out and grabbed it. 

"Leave it," she said. 

He had no idea what the expression in her eyes meant, but he guessed he could have stared into her brown eyes for hours trying to figure it out. He set the rook down carefully. 

Max proceeded to sweep another pawn forward, leaving the option of capturing the rook open. 

"Not fair," he grumbled. 

She shrugged. "I never said I played fair." 

"You're not allowed to trick a guy like that," Logan said with a smirk. "It's against the rules. You can't use your superpowers against we mere mortals." 

"I don't remember signing any agreements," she replied with a smirk of her own. 

"Remind me to type one up then," he said and moved a pawn forward. He developed a new strategy. 

Max utterly destroyed his strategy as she captured his rook. 

The seconds ticked by into minutes and thirty minutes ticked by before Logan was looking over the chessboard with a smile. Max was smiling also, but for a different reason. She knew Logan was laboring under the delusion that he was going to win the game. 

"I'm hungry all of a sudden," she remarked. 

"You're trying to distract me," he said as he stared intently at the board. "It won't work." 

"Trying to distract you? I would never," she said and chuckled. "I don't have to distract you to win." 

"You're very confident," he said, raising his eyes to meet hers. 

She leaned over the board so that her face was hovering as close to it as his was. She met his eyes and replied, "And you're very slow." 

They stared into each other's eyes for a moment too long. Suddenly the game disappeared. They both knew what they were getting themselves into and were all right with it. Max leaned further across the board to bridge the gap and pressed her lips to his. They were still for a moment, both wondering exactly how far the other was willing to go. Impatient as always, Max deepened the kiss and snaked an arm around Logan's neck to pull him closer. In response, Logan reached across the table and wrapped an arm around her waist. In one swift tug, he had pulled her across the table, sending the chess pieces everywhere. 

She found herself in his lap and pulled away from him for a moment. She looked down at him and smiled. 

"You only did that 'cause you knew you were gonna lose." 

A million replies raced through his mind, but he couldn't vocalize them. Instead, he put a hand on the back of her neck and pulled her face to his, eager to continue the kiss. 

Max felt the dull pain in her chest dissipate and suddenly felt as if her heart had been repaired and placed back in her chest where it belonged. She wanted to tell Logan everything that was behind the kiss, but as they made their way to the bedroom, she had a feeling he already knew. 

His name was the last sound she made before they crashed onto the bed. 


	18. Calm

A/N: Babyangel86 that's just you hearing things. ;) That was the only incident. Max is just thinking on it because she wants a brother, a family, desperately but instead has whatever Zack is. Besides, if Max wasn't brooding over something, well, she wouldn't be Max, would she? 

**Chapter Eighteen** - _Calm_

Max lain in bed listening to the rain softly bounce off the windows. She closed her eyes and just listened to her two favorite sounds in the world - the rain and Logan's rhythmic breathing. She turned on her side that she could watch the raindrops make lazy, winding paths from the top of the window to the sill. When she grew tired of that, she shifted her gaze to the man sleeping soundly beside her. She resisted the urge to reach over and run a hand through his tousled hair. She told herself over and over that it was real and not another dream. She frowned at the thought of the dreams. They started off so well, with her waking up just like that, but then Lydecker had always burst through the door and had her taken away. 

But the worst part was that Logan always slept through the whole thing. 

She slid out of bed, careful not to disturb Logan. She knew he needed the sleep. She found a luxurious red bathrobe hanging near the door and slipped it on. It was warm and soft and smelled like Logan. She spotted a rubber band on the dresser and used it to put up her hair - something she knew she would regret later when she was tearing her hair out, but for the moment she didn't care much about that. She had already torn out a lot of hair in Canada, so she doubted a few extra follicles wouldn't be the end of the world. 

She slipped out of the room and closed the door quietly behind her. Her feet made barely any noise on the smooth hardwood floors and she smiled. It was a great improvement over her heavy combat boots on weak, creaky floorboards. 

She walked to the kitchen and started up the coffeemaker. While it percolated, she decided to check out something that had been eating at her. 

She walked to Logan's office and pushed the door open. The room was mostly neat and the only sound was the gentle hums and whirs of Logan's many machines. She stepped into the room and took a seat in front of the computer. She looked around the room until she found what she was looking for. 

A space had been cleared on one of the shelves and three frame photographs sat in the space that undoubtedly used to belong to one of Logan's beloved pieces of technology. From her seat, she examined the pictures closely. The first was of her alone, standing near the window with her arms crossed, not quite sad but not quite happy either. The middle photo was one of her and Logan together, sitting on the couch, both staring at the camera. She remembered they had been staring at Bling, shooting daggers at him with their eyes. She was surprised that didn't come out in the photo. Instead, they seemed perfectly peaceful. The last photo was one of her near the door sticking out her tongue. Bling had said it was his last picture and to "do something fun." 

She heard movement from the bedroom and got up from her chair. She walked back to the kitchen and hopped up onto the counter next to the coffeemaker. 

A few minutes later, Logan wheeled into the kitchen, clad in only a pair of gray sweatpants. 

"You look like hell," Max observed with a smirk. 

"I'd argue if I weren't so sure that was true," Logan mumbled in reply. 

The bags under his eyes looked like they weighed a ton and his pants looked like they might have been inside out. Truthfully, it was a miracle he had managed to pull his sluggish body out of the warmth of the bed at all. Months of barely any sleep and a diet fit for an anorexic beauty queen did that to a man. 

"So, I'm making the coffee, what're you making to eat?" Max asked and slid off the countertop. She bent down at the hip to give Logan a kiss then took a seat at the butcher-block island. 

"I guess some things never change," he replied and smirked. 

"I guess you can blame Manticore for not being big on Home Ec.," she replied with shrug. "How 'bout some eggs? Scrambled, maybe?" 

"Your wish is my command." 

"I could get used to hearing that." 

Logan went to the fridge. "How is it different from when I made you food before?" 

"Now I get to hear it," she replied and offered him a smile. "Before it was just, ya know, implied." 

He nodded his head and began rooting through the refrigerator for the food. 

"I'm gonna go take a quick shower," Max told him. 

He nodded and she walked back to the bedroom. She gathered her clothes off the floor with a smirk then headed into the bathroom. She draped her clothes over the hamper then started the water. She let the robe drop to the floor then stepped into the shower. 

As the hot water ran over her, she couldn't help but smile. Suddenly the cracks in the ceiling didn't mean so much to her anymore. Comfy bathrobes and inside out sweat pants were the only thing that mattered. 

She finished her shower quickly then dried off and changed into her clothes. She threw her wet hair into a ponytail and examined herself in the mirror. 

"Hey, Max," she greeted her reflection quietly. 

She went through the medicine cabinet until she found the blue toothbrush - her toothbrush, the one she had brought over when crashing at Logan's became habit. She brushed her teeth quickly - though found it hard to keep the smile off her face. 

She walked back to the kitchen and found Logan plating the scrambled eggs. He had been ambitious - he had made toast and poured the coffee. 

"What do you say we eat in the living room?" he offered. "Ya know, for a change." 

"I go wherever the food goes," she replied with a shrug. 

She gathered up her plate and coffee cup and followed Logan into the living room. Once they were both settled, with knees and hands meeting accidentally-on-purpose, Max reached for the remote and switched the television on. 

"A genetically engineered killing machine that watches cartoons," Logan chuckled. 

"I like Sylvester," she replied with a shrug. "He's always trying to get that yellow bird but that stupid dog is always stopping him." 

It seemed as if the latest metaphor for her life was an early morning cartoon. She smiled and ate her eggs. 

"Work today?" Logan asked. 

"Unfortunately," she sighed. "Normal's on my ass about being on time and all. The man has no compassion. I was visiting sick family, after all." 

Logan looked at her. "It was the only thing I could think to say to Cindy when she asked. 'Mother' just sort of came out, I didn't mean to -" 

"It's no big dealio," she replied with a shrug. She frowned down at her eggs. 

She wanted to admit to Logan that something from the bottom of her stomach jumped into her throat and tried to suffocate her when someone mentioned her mother, but she didn't. She figured he didn't need that sort of stress. Besides, thoughts of her mother shouldn't be all bad, after all - her mother had wanted her. That was something, wasn't it? It was certainly one of the things she thought about right when she felt like her heart would shatter and she would soon follow it. It was a small consolation - as all her consolations seemed to be - but it was something at least. 

She took a few big bites of her toast before wiping her hands and face with her napkin. "I better jet." 

"How about some lunch later?" 

"I'll take a run around twelve then," she told him. "May as well get paid." 

Logan chuckled. "I like the way you think." 

Max grinned and kissed him. She pulled her face away so that their foreheads were touching and she could look in his eyes. She whispered, "Wait 'til you see what I thought up for tonight." 

She kissed him again then got up and left the apartment, leaving her final words to hang in the back of his mind all day. 


	19. Before The

**Chapter Nineteen** - _Before The_

Max pushed the door to the apartment open and listened. She heard Kendra in the bathroom singing along to a static-y radio station. She wheeled her motorcycle over to its usual spot and gently put down the kickstand. She walked into her room and put together an acceptable work outfit. 

She heard the bathroom door open and heard footsteps in the living room. 

"Ohhh, Maaaax!" Kendra cried giddily from the living room. 

"In here," Max called back. 

Kendra bound into the room and grinned. 

"Well, well, well," Kendra said. "Motorcycle's finally in the living room at - oh, seven AM when it was missing all night, and you're in wearing the clothes you had on last night. I suppose, what, you had a chaste dinner and crashed on his couch, right?" 

Max replied with a shrug, "Nah, we banged the gong all night and I just got home." 

"I… I'm not sure if you're making fun of me," Kendra said and crossed her arms. "You serious?" 

Max raised her eyebrows and Kendra grinned. 

"You are!" her friend exclaimed. "Well, finally, if you ask me." 

Max gathered her work clothes into her arms. She replied with a smile, "Well, I didn't ask you." 

She walked past Kendra and made her way to the bathroom. She changed and dried her hair then emerged from the bathroom. She found Kendra in the living room reading a magazine. 

"You working today?" Max asked as she put her cap on and threw her backpack over her shoulders. 

"Not at all this week," Kendra returned with a frown. "There's a convention coming next week though so I guess I'll be all right." 

"Well, if you need…" Max allowed the offer to hang in the air, not wanting it to seem like charity. 

Kendra nodded and gave her a small smile. "Thanks." 

"Well, I better get to work before Normal fires my ass again," Max said. She grabbed her bicycle and left the apartment. 

When she got to Jam Pony, all she could think about was lunch. She ignored Normal's yells about no bikes inside and steered her bike in the direction of the lockers. She found Original Cindy and Sketchy near Cindy's locker, going back and forth on Sketchy's latest pyramid scheme. 

She just smiled to herself and opened her own locker. 

"It's a simple investment," Sketchy explained, "of only two hundred dollars. With that you get -" 

"I don't care if it gets me Xena in a Playboy bunny outfit and a free hour," Original Cindy interrupted, "you ain't getting my hard earned cash money." 

"I think you're missing the finer points of this," Sketchy said. 

"And you're missing some of the finer points of your _brain_," Original Cindy replied. 

Sketchy spotted a new victim - Herbal - and walked over to him. 

"So, how was your sleepover, boo?" 

Max turned to Cindy. "Now, how do you know about that so fast?" 

"I called you last night," Original Cindy explained, "and Kendra said you weren't home yet. That was after twelve and if you weren't home by that point, you weren't going home at all. So, how was it?" 

"It was good," Max replied. She shrugged. "You know, dinner, conversation, sex, breakfast." 

Original Cindy's eyes widened. "Excuse me?" 

Max closed her locker and looked at her best friend. "What?" 

"Stop playin'," Cindy said and slapped Max on the arm. "Sex? You and Logan? Well, about damn time if you ask me." 

"Why does everybody keep saying that?" Max replied. 

Max promised to give Cindy all the details later at Crash then they walked to the middle of the room to save Herbal from Sketchy's pitch. 

After being turned down by Herbal, Sketchy turned to Max. "Max, I've got an opportunity for you. These guys didn't take me up on it, but believe me, when they see you flossing after everything's all over, they'll regret it. With a very small investment of only two hundred dollars, you can -" 

"Sketch, ya lost me at 'opportunity,'" Max interrupted his pitch. "Nobody in this place has got that kind of scratch to throw around anyway." 

Sketchy looked thoughtful for a moment then asked, "How does Logan feel about risk ventures?" 

Max rolled her eyes. 

"Hey, Missy-miss," Normal called out. "You have a home line - use it." 

Max took that to mean she had a phone call and walked over to him. She gave Normal a syrupy smile before taking the phone from him. 

"Yeah?" 

_"Max?"_

Max felt her blood begin to boil then freeze instantly. 

"Zack?" 

_"Maxie."_

"Zack, what is it?" she asked. "What - Where are you?" 

_"It's Lydecker."_

"Tell me what's going on," she demanded. "What do you mean? Did he find me? What's going on?" 

She looked over her shoulder and licked her lips. If Lydecker had found her… Zack was right. 

_"No, it's Jondy. Max, you've got to come."_

"Where are you?" 

_"Warehouse by the piers. It's got 'Daniel & Hook's' painted on the side."_

"I'm coming now," Max said. 

She hung up the phone and reached over the counter for a package. She smiled at Normal then walked over to Cindy. She slipped the package into Cindy's bag. 

"Can you deliver this for me?" Max said quietly. "That was Logan. He's got this… thing he needs help with. I gotta go." 

"What's wrong?" Cindy asked. 

"Nothing," Max told her, but even she knew she was showing all her cards. "I'll be back in a little while." 

Max grabbed her bike and pedaled out of Jam Pony faster than she ever had before. She pushed herself to the limit and reached Logan's in no time. She rushed to his apartment and threw open the door. 

"Logan!" 

He met her in the kitchen, now fully dressed and awake. "What's wrong?" 

"I - I don't know," she admitted. "But it's something. I think Lydecker has Jondy. Zack called me at work and asked me to meet him at a warehouse by the piers." 

"Max, that doesn't sound safe," he said slowly. 

"I don't care," she replied hotly. "I came to you for help, Logan. If you're not gonna help me then I'm gonna do this on my own. I can't let Lydecker take my sister." 

"Well what if he takes you?" Logan replied just as hotly. 

"It's a risk venture," she told him, trying to keep her voice level. "Right now I just have to meet Zack at the warehouse. He's probably got a plan. This is the safest part of it all. I need your help on this, Logan." 

"I'll get my keys." 

**A/N:** Oh, what? Like you didn't know I would do something like this. ;) 


	20. Storm

**A/N:** This chapter has gone through so many different versions it's unbelievable. That's why it's taken so long to post it. I thought I had it perfect then I did a 180 and changed things around, then just deleted everything started over - more than once. I'm satisfied with what I've got here but overall it was difficult for me. 

**Chapter Twenty** - _Storm_

They found the warehouse with only a minimal amount of trouble. It looked just like every other warehouse Max had ever seen - crumbling, tarnished - but with one exception: "Daniel & Hook's" was painted on it in big, white letters that stuck out in the dirt and grime. When they reached the warehouse, Max had thought of asking Logan to stay in the Aztek just in case, but before she could say it, he was already preparing to get out of the car. They went to the door together and Max braced herself for anything. She opened the door and stepped inside first. When she saw no immediate threat, she walked in further and signaled for Logan to follow her. 

There wasn't much in the building. There were a few stacks of crates, an old desk, and a shoddily constructed cubicle sitting in the far corner. 

She heard something behind her and turned around quickly. She saw slide away from one of the crates and lower a gun. She let out a breath. 

"Zack, what's going on?" she asked. 

"What's he doing here?" Zack asked, nodding in Logan's direction. 

"I was the ride," Logan said and clenched his jaw. 

Max looked at him, wanted to tell him that he was _never_ "just the ride" - but knew that it wasn't the time. She had to focus on the mission. 

"Where's Jondy?" she said instead. 

She heard another noise then a woman stepped from behind the crates. Max took in the sight of her sister for the first time in ten years. 

Jondy was as tall as Max and had a similar build, but her face was different. Her skin was light and her face was slim with slight features - small lips, small nose, but wide green eyes. Her hair was blonde and cascaded to her shoulders. It looked like it was recently cut - a choppy at home job. She was dressed in ratty tennis shoes, black pants, a pale red shirt, and a faded jean jacket. She didn't look like what Max had pictured at all. She looked so sad, and even old. 

Words escaped Max. She just walked over to her sister and pulled her in for a hug. "I can't believe this." 

"Me neither," Jondy replied, patting Max lightly on the back. "I've been waiting for this." 

They separated and Jondy cast a wary glance at Logan. 

"He's as good as family," Max assured her quietly. 

Jondy only nodded. 

Zack scowled and said, "Next time get here on your own." 

"Zack," Jondy warned. 

"We don't have time for this," Zack finally sighed. "We've got to get you out of the city. You said Lydecker's men are all over the city?" 

"Yeah," Jondy said. "I noticed some following me today and I lost them. I used the roofs after that and saw them everywhere." 

"We've got to plan this out," Zack said. He holstered his gun, much to Max's relief. "We've got to get to the border somehow." 

Max frowned and turned to Jondy. "What're you doing in Seattle anyway?" 

"I heard this was the last place Zack was," she answered. "I needed to get in touch with him." 

"Why? Wasn't San Francisco safe?" Zack asked. 

Jondy bit her lower lip. "Not exactly." 

"Did he find you there?" Zack pressed. 

"Yeah." 

"And you didn't come to me sooner?" Zack asked. 

"I had to wait until the perfect time," Jondy explained slowly. "If I didn't wait until the perfect time, everything would've been messed up." 

"The perfect time?" Max asked. "The perfect time for what?" 

"This," was Jondy's simple answer. 

Jondy grabbed the gun from the holster on Zack's belt and sprang back a few steps. She raised the gun and trained it on them. 

Zack narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing?" 

"Just what I have to," Jondy said and cocked the gun. 

"What are you doing, Jondy?" Zack repeated. He took a step forward. 

"Don't move!" Jondy screamed. "Don't move, Zack! Not you either Maxie! Just don't move!" 

"Jondy…" Max was aware her voice sounded like a child's but she didn't care. Every moment they had spent together at Manticore, being sisters and best friends, flashed through Max's mind. 

"I don't have a choice," Jondy said. Tears stung the corners of her eyes. "I have to do thi - I said don't move!" 

Max turned her said and saw that Logan's hand was creeping toward his coat pocket. It fell limply into his lap. 

Max stepped in front of him. 

While Jondy's attention was focused on Max and Logan, Zack took a chance. He barreled at Jondy, ready for everything but the bullet that ripped through him and Jondy's scream afterwards. He hit the ground hard and rolled over onto his back. He clutched at the wound in his chest. 

"Zack!" Max screamed out for her big brother. She wanted to cry out. Her big brother. 

"Don't move," Jondy warned. She looked from Zack to Max. "I don't want to have to shoot you too, Maxie. I don't want to hurt anyone. I just want to live." 

"Why are you doing this?" Max asked, allowing the tears to flow. Her brother was going to die and she and Logan would follow. 

Jondy allowed her tears to trickle down her face. "It's the only way he would help me." 

"Help you? Who?" 

"Lydecker," Jondy said, spitting his name out like the curse that it was. 

"Why do you want his help?" Max asked. She felt the anger coursing through her like never before. 

"I'll die without him," Jondy told her quietly. "I have Progeria, Max." 

Max's eyes widened. She looked so… old. "There's other options. You don't have to do this." 

"I'll _die_ if he doesn't help me," Jondy said. "I don't want to die. Brin didn't want to die and I don't either." 

"Brin didn't betray us," Max yelled. 

"Brin didn't have to!" Jondy screamed through her tears. "He took her back! He found me and he told me he'd let me die unless I brought him Zack! He wants Zack!" 

"I'd die before betraying you, Jondy," Max told her. "Why would you do this?" 

"I'm too scared to die," Jondy said and lowered the gun. "I'm weak, Max. You're stronger than I am. You always were." 

Max slowly walked forward but Jondy raised the gun again and she stopped. "We can talk about this." 

"Talking won't save any lives here today," Jondy said. "Talking won't save me, it won't save Zack. We'll both be dead without Manticore." 

"I can take Zack to a hospital," Max said. "You can tell Lydecker he got away." 

"It won't work," Jondy said sadly. "A hospital can't help him. Look at him." 

Max looked down at his brother. His chest was still moving up and down, a good sign - but the only one. A large pool of blood was collecting under him and his shirt was soaked with it. He was going to die if she didn't do something immediately. 

Suddenly, Jondy moved the gun under her chin. 

"Don't!" Max screamed. 

Jondy looked at her but didn't move the gun. "What's the point? Look what I've done. Lydecker's coming. Zack's dying." 

"So that's it, huh?" Max said angrily. "You're gonna take the cop-out? You're gonna kill our brother, leave me to be captured and then do yourself in? God, what a brave way to go, Jon." 

Jondy broke down in tears and fell to her knees. She let the gun fall. It hit the floor with a clatter that echoed throughout the warehouse. 

Max raced over to Zack. She heard Logan open his cell phone and make a call. She looked down at Zack and put her hand over the wound. She could see him look at her - just barely, but he had. She began talking to him. She apologized for every time she was a pain in the ass, for every time she fought him in Canada, for every time she was a terrible sister. She began to cry again. The tears trickled from her face to Zack's blood-soaked T-shirt. She felt Logan behind her but couldn't say a word. She couldn't turn around. All she could think of was that her brother was going to die. And in the weird way of the world, it was her fault. 

"I called Matt," Logan told her quietly. "He's going to meet us down the street with an ambulance. We have to leave now." 

Soldier. 

Max focused on the word. She ripped up the floorboards inside herself and pulled the little girl with the war paint on her face up from the dark hole. She ignored the impulse to cry. She was above impulses. Her face hardened as the little girl melded with her, became her guiding voice. She gathered Zack into her arms and stood up carefully. 

She looked down at Jondy. 

"Please kill me," her little sister begged quietly. 

"You're already dead," Max replied in a cracked voice. "But I forgive you, Jon. Keep Brin company in there." 

She heard Logan begin to wheel toward the door and turned to walk away. She stopped. 

"Think of the High Place in there," she said, feeling Jondy's eyes on her back. "Pray to Her." 

The words meant nothing to Max, but she could tell they might offer her troubled sister at least a little comfort. 

She walked away, the little soldier telling her to ignore Jondy's tortured cries. 

**A/N:** Well, anyway, yes, that's that then. Also, I know there's a reference in there about Jondy being Max's little sister - and yes, it is correct. Max isn't the youngest like so many people believe. Her birthday, Zack's, and Jondy's were officially released - Max was born in July 2000, Jondy in November 2000. Just thought I'd say that before I got messages about it. I'm always thinking ahead. And hey, we're almost done. 


	21. Some Things

**Chapter Twenty-One** - _Some Things_

The little soldier had followed Max into the ambulance and stayed with her in the waiting room. Max paced the waiting room, unable to see anything but big blurs of color shooting past her. Her life was suddenly cracks in the ceiling again. It seemed like just when she had plastered over everything, made everything smooth and nice, and appropriate for company, something leaked through and destroyed her hard work. The ceiling split open again, sending plaster debris raining down on her. She felt like she was choking on the dust as she waited for it to settle. 

She paced the length of the waiting room with the little soldier hot on her heels. The little soldier told her it was not all right to cry. The little soldier also said not to worry about the little girl because the little girl was safe in the floorboards. 

It had been hours without any word. Max wondered if Jondy had killed Zack. She wondered if Lydecker killed Jondy. She wondered if Jondy had decided to kill herself. 

Ten more minutes ticked by before Sam Carr shuffled into the waiting room, looking worn. 

Max leapt at him and demanded to know what had happened. 

"He's going to live," Sam assured her. 

Max felt the little girl in her push through the floorboards and force the little soldier back into the darkness. 

"He lost a lot of blood," Sam continued. "He'll probably need another transfusion within the next hour. I've got my people on the phone with every blood bank in the city." 

"No need," Max told him. "I can donate to him." 

"We'd have to run tests to see if -" 

"Trust me," Max interrupted. "I can donate. Can we see him?" 

"Yeah," Sam said. "He's sleeping now though. He'll be out for a few hours at least. I'll take you to him." 

They followed Sam to a room near the end of the hospital. 

"It's the most secure room we have," Sam said to Logan as he opened the door. "And I'm getting rid of the records as soon as they reach my desk. He was never here." 

"Thanks, Sam," Logan said. 

Sam nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him. 

Max took the seat next to Zack's bed and stared down at him. 

She wanted to hold Zack's hand to let him know that she was there, but was afraid. She was afraid because it was Zack. If Zack could lie in a hospital bed, if Zack could nearly die… it could happen to anyone. Zack always seemed to be above all that. He was the big brother. He was… an ass. 

She wanted to laugh at the thought but the sound wouldn't come. 

She hoped she could convince Zack to give up the crusade and start a normal life - maybe somewhere in Canada. He seemed to like Canada. She knew Zack would never go back to Canada. Not without a reason. Not without her. 

Her pillowy lips sunk into a deep frown and her brow furrowed. She stared down at Zack's face, which was still as hard and sharp as ever, and tried to understand him. She searched his features for some answer, but none came. There never was an answer. Deep within her she knew that she would never be able to understand her brother's love for her, but she liked to pretend she could and would be able to convince him to treat her like he treated the rest of their siblings. 

She just wanted to be his sister. She just wanted _a brother_. But she had Zack. Whatever he was. 

"You okay?" Logan asked. He wheeled the chair next to her. 

She turned to him and replied, "This isn't off course." 

Logan looked at Zack then turned back to Max. "No, it's not." 

"Is it wrong that I forgave her?" she asked in a quiet voice. She decided to push thoughts of Zack aside for the moment - there was no use dwelling on something she could never understand nor change. "Shouldn't I hate her?" 

"Maybe," Logan answered. "But maybe you really are high-minded. She's your family, Max, and she was trying to find a way to live. I'm not making excuses for her, but it's been my experience people will do anything to prolong their own lives." 

"Yeah, but… not to family," Max said. "You're not supposed to do this to family." 

"I don't think it's going to make sense no matter how much you think it over or you replay it in your head or whatever," Logan told her. "I don't think anyone will ever understand except for her. The world doesn't make sense sometimes, Max." 

She grabbed his hand. "Some things do." 

He couldn't help a small smile. "Yeah, some things." 

"I wish easy was an option," she sighed. "I wish this wasn't my life." 

Logan replied tentatively, "You could always go back to Canada." 

Max's brow furrowed. She squeezed his hand and said, "I could never go back to Canada. I'd rather go through hell with you by my side than have the easiest life without you." 

"Same here," he replied quietly. 

She reached over and hugged him. She nailed the final floorboard down and let the tears fall. 

She managed through her tears, "Don't ever leave me, Logan." 

"I won't," he reassured quietly and held her tightly. 

You couldn't blame her for being in love. 


	22. True Calm: Epilogue

**Chapter Twenty-Two** - _True Calm: Epilogue_

After a few transfusions from Max, Zack was released from the hospital with a bottle of painkillers in his pocket and the promise that no one would ever know he had been there. There hadn't been a tearful good-bye like Max only half-expected but instead a match pair of "Take care of yourself" comments and a mock salute. Zack had walked off. That had been one month and twelve days ago. There hadn't been any word from him since. 

Max lain in bed, staring at the ceiling. She hardly thought at all and there were no colors - her life already had enough color. The rain beat down on the city and Max hoped it could wash away some of the past. She had hoped for a tidal wave to wash over her and take some of the garbage that littered her shore back out to sea. So far it was calm waters. 

She thought of Jondy and hoped that her sister had found her peace. She still didn't understand Jondy's motives, but she could understand the will to live. Manticore seemed to breed that. She forgave her sister because to forever hate her would have been a waste. A waste of energy and of family. She hoped she was fighting them. She hoped Brin was fighting. She hoped they escaped again - together. She found herself hoping a lot lately. 

It seemed that, without the easy option, hope was all she had. 

When the smell of food hit her, she climbed out of the bed and slipped on the red bathrobe that had somehow managed to become hers. 

She walked into the kitchen and greeted Logan with a smile and a kiss. 

"Hope your in the mood for pancakes," he said. 

"If I can eat it, I'm in the mood for it," she replied with a smile and poured herself a cup of coffee. "Did you get the paper this morning?" 

"Nope," he told her and shook his head. 

She took a sip of her coffee then set the mug down and went to the front door. She opened it then grabbed the newspaper from the floor and walked back to the kitchen. 

She separated out the sections that didn't impact her day - everything but the weather section. 

She skimmed the section over with a smile. 

**Today** - Rainy, 63  
**Thursday** - Clear, 70  
**Friday** - Severe Thunderstorms, 55  
**Saturday** - Rainy, 60  
**Sunday** - Slightly Cloudy, chance of Rain, 58 

No snow in sight. 

"Perfect," she said quietly, her lips curving into a satisfied smile. 

**The End.**

**A/N:** First, I'd like to say thanks to everyone who reviewed! 

Second, I'll say that the reason I ended it here was because, well, where would I go after this point? The drama for this fic came, it went, everyone's mostly happy but with the ever so present tinge of angst that is Max's life. This was my first Dark Angel fic in a while and I gotta say it really brought me back to the (broken) world I love. I'll be back, you can count on it. In fact, I'm already working on something new. 

Third, I'll just touch on the subject of Jondy. I left her fate open for a few reasons. But, of course, I have a sneaky, sneaky mind and can't share those with you! 


End file.
